Deja vu
As crashing waves collide with sand,
It’s pictured in the water's sway–
relentless, as a tide's demand
to wash the tracks of yesterday.
Yet, as it ebbs, new prints appear
in place of those erased by sea;
each step an echo, crisp and clear,
a silent, screaming memory.
Her eyes, like windows to the past,
as forceful as the ocean's surge–
to heal, then break me just as fast
when sky and sea begin to merge.
And she’ll not feel this déjà vu
or hear your echo in her voice;
but in her blood, she’ll carry you
and mirrors never have a choice.
The salty sea can sting so deep
when sprinkled on my wounded skin;
you walk beside her while you sleep
and reach me from the grave you're in.
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