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The boat is so close to me.
It feels so nice.
It is full of flowers.
White, red and blue: so many roses.
Some are stale, some fresh.
The fragrance of the roses pulls me in.
Even though it’s decked on the pier,
I can’t pull my gaze away.
I don’t know why I can’t leave.
Those roses are so precious to me.

The boat shifts slightly,
But I hold onto the thought that it will stay.
My feet burn with saltwater,
Yet still, I want to remain here,
Frozen, by the pier.

Is this fear, in the middle?
Am I afraid to leave?
I’m still gripping the rope,
As if that can hold it here.
Is it hope, or just the fear that if I let go,
It might disappear?

The boat has drifted far away.
It moves on its own,
And yet, I can’t release it yet.
My hands ache, my feet are raw.
But still, I refuse to let go.
I have to stay.

The roses: they’re why my heart aches,
But I can’t hold this anymore.
And yet, I don’t know what to do.
The boat’s gone, drifting on its own.

Maybe once I let go, I’ll leave this pier.
But what if it vanishes?
What if I’ve let it go too soon?
Can I change something now?
The boat pulls at the rope.
And I feel the weight,
Until I finally let go.

But the fragrance lingers,
I can still smell it.
Is it real, or just memory?
I no longer control the boat.
Something holds me here.
What is this feeling?

Is it fear?
The boat now looks like a speck,
A mere bug on the horizon.
But I’m still here.
Why?
Is it because I can still see it,
Or because I’m clinging to hope?

The boat is gone now.
It vanished beyond the horizon.
But I remain,
Trapped by the fragrance,
Tangled in memories,
Whispering, ‘Stay a little longer.’
Pulling, pulling ,
Even as I long to break free from the pier.

That same weight,
That kept me here for so long,
Is the same force that keeps me bound to the pier.
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