(you were never alone)

The storm stranded my boat onto your faraway shore

The water took me down, dark and suffocating below

and you stood, eyes steady and waiting for me to swim to you

but my vision was a dark tunnel and your voice as distant too,

so your waves carried me and taught me how to swim(your heart was weighing you down)

And breathing became tough through the thick humidity of the cloud’s attempt to sail me home,

so you reminded to breathe(in and out)

And the nights were cold and the wood I cut dead and useless,

so you showed me how to find a shelter within myself(your heart only beats if you let it)

You taught me to retreat into my mind and scrub the tunnels that carried my blood(how did you ever expect to float?)

walls stained and painted with frowns, now clear as glass,

and just as fragile,

forged with the fear or joy or relief or numbness of it(You don’t quite remember which)

But the glass cracked, overwhelmed by the moon’s waning hour

that only existed in the  depths of your eyes’ autumn devour

And again my heart began to sink, heavier than stone,

so you saved me with the grasp of your hand(you were never alone)

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