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{“The salty ocean splashes and smears against my knees and I cannot help but mistake it for the bleeding of my heart they tarnished and flashed open. From the cool air that shafts within the breeze, your breeze. The willows for which I take a glimpse at, confining our prosperity. Introspection they seize with their indicators to mourn and grieve against you but I am far too broken to be true.
I forgot to tell them because I’m pathetic, I’d been frightened by myself to drown in the cacophony of voices whispering in my ear telling me to end it when I don’t oblige them. 
The seas, the water, the Atlantic Ocean, you don’t have to repeat for me incessantly, I’m pathetic but so are you, for catching the fallen and gripping them in the cause of your hospitality and the sighs of your waves washing over and blemishing the sand in which I voyage in over and over. How can I believe that every pain will have an ending because I long for the end? I’m pathetic and want it to be over with so I don’t have to become whiplashed into the tornadoes that swallow me up a whole as they once did and they call me rich but I am not, I am not meek as they convey my emotions, I stay silent in avoidance because whatever would come out of my maw, would kill you on the inside. 
So, I close my eyes and inhale the saturation God has to forbid me to do so. 
I gnaw on the inner side of my lips, to prevent anything to come out from the darkness that lies within me. You are in my mind, in my head, you have set up a camp so don’t pretend. You are in my soul, buried as an endeavor, heartened to a degree nobody else was able to get past by the flames that are mountainous to one’s venture. You weren’t supposed to witness the failures of the people who have slashed their knife in my gut and tilted me over the bridge where cars pass by as I wait and expect the brimming engine of yours to envelope me in conscious consolation so that I wouldn’t give up my soul to other’s and present it to you just so you could break me apart as the streaks of shooting stars break through the nightfall sky.
It washes over me, the gut feeling, I see it coming from a mile away as cars pass by, you think I’m rich but I am not, that it is easy and possible for me to love without expectations, grieve without guilt. My forehead dots in perspiration and I feel myself going insanely unrecognizable. You wrecked me, the massive impact you provoked in me wretched the fire that was already burning as an agora, aggressive yet determined. Qualify me as a tragedy, they qualify you the treason once they could imposter and identify the slash that led me to my death and next destination, underneath the stars, I mourn for a lover, and I commence to my death. Lavender reaches my nostrils and forces me alive, I breathe in the air, the smoke of you reaches from a mile through, and the dread ricochets back. 
I bow down and wish I were dead already,
five hundred times over; The Atlantic- in which I indulge and confine to, I testify and admit that I’m pathetic with spurring emotions 
But so are you."}
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