Ocean’s bed

There is a great difference
Between drowning
And lying on the sea bed
Looking up into the shattered surface
Of the mirrored ocean.

I wish I could see my face
In those broken waves
Struggling for breath
Yet so at peace.
Then I would look beautiful.

“Then I would be safe.”
With the arms of the waters
Clasped ever so tightly
Around my waist
Around my throat.

Little reason to question
The caring hands
That stroke my eyelids shut
With one last burst
Of frenzied air.

As the moon sinks
Into my realm of calm
Below the waves
To share my hand
And pierce my mind

I can make you
One or two promises.
One of safety
Or two of sorrow
But never both, never both.

The Moon fades now
Into the ash of night
And not for me to chase
But to admire
The greatest escapist

Little to the imagination
He will come back
Every single night
To share my side
And open those eyes.

Those eyes forced shut
By the force of the waves.
Those eyes which were blind
For so very long
To the constraints of binds.

He shares my side
With ease and envy
My youth and air
Are his ashen oil lamp
In the dead of the dark.

If only the waves
Weren’t as beautiful
And if only the sky
Were easier to touch
With these blistered hands

The Ocean’s bed grows hot
As my lungs grow shallow.
The shattered surface
Will watch on, ever on,
And never reach down

Into my domain
Of peace and persecution.
Only he comes here
When it is too dark
For the waves to spy.

I wish he would visit
More and more often,
To take my hand
And lift my eyes
Toward his lofty palace.

Yet I know the less he comes
The less I hope.
The longer I remain
Until longer is perpetual
And perpetual is oblivion.

And when perpetual
Finally becomes just that
I will assume he got lost
And assume myself lost
At his hand and side.

Then if I am ever asked
“What happened to the Moon?”
I will reply with gallant mockery
He is forever at rest
On the Ocean’s bed.