I dig graves in the palms of my hands,
I scratch myself raw trying to forget your touch
Sometimes I wonder what would be different
if I didn't always push back against your current
If I let you engulf me in your waters
suffocate myself in the feelings I deny
what if my shoulder blades crash into the rocks
will the pain of the collision
be worse than what I feel now?
will the next grave I dig be one for myself
will you attend my funeral
will your body become home to my corpse
or will you run
because even the strongest waves
must always retract
the shores only meant to be a temporary home.
//fin
Authors_Note//This isn't edited and I know it's trash. I haven't written a poem in yearssss.
