My Boat. My World.

My boat. It's heavy.

Heavy from the rains of my face. 
Heavy from the waves crashing in my heart.

My boat. It's rocky.

Rocky from the tremor in my knees.
Rocky from the thoughts in my head. 

My boat. It sails.

It sails with the wind from my lungs.
It sails with the rustle in my hair.

My boat. It glides.

It glides with thoughts of her.
It glides with the curve of my lips. 

My boat. My boat. 

If I could, I would.
Turn up the Sail, Pull up the anchor.

It's time to paddle along.
It's time to scoop out the water. 

My boat. My world. 

Say a little prayer for us all.
For we are servants of the deep blue

I look back at the diminishing island,
Hopeful, of feeling the sand on the shore again.
Knowing, the longing of the warmth will always reign.

All I hear is the lull of water on wood.
All I feel is the weight of my decision.

Someday, I will see the cheeky grin again.
Someday, I will know, it's meant only for me.
And this time, I will be able to let it flower like it's meant to be.