A short story…
A short story… This is not a love poem, This is a short story about the waves. How each ripple is a choice, a narration in each peak. A story with no happy endings, just a repeated inner voice heard over and over the crashing waves, felt in every defeat. This poem is about the waves, each one bigger than the last, more of will and broken thoughts, deaf to the crashing waves, all around. Every breath seems like my last, the pounding of my heart heard with every thumping sound. Can they hear it? Why must it feel very loud? This story tells tales of what the waves couldn’t change. What the waves only felt_What the waves calmly followed_What they couldn’t neglect. Revealing shattered dreams, toppled sand castles and missing things. The waves can only wash themselves ashore. Bringing to light what lay in the dark, brush the truths held close to heart. Feel the tears whisper calls of treason, I wish this was just a love poem, maybe t...
