I Don't Trust People With Blue Eyes

Everyone forgets the ocean is cold. You're feeding the void when you let the waves crash against your shoulders. The spray and foam will crystalize on your skin, but make no mistake; you have paid dearly for your moments of weightlessness. It's all fine and good when you can leave and wrap a sandy towel around your torso to bring the warmth of your blood rushing back. It's different when you don't have a choice. Sailors don't drown; they are consumed. The current could not care less about your breath or the body your soul inhabits. It wants your warmth and will drain you with patience. As long as you let it, the water will continue to lap around your neck and close the valves of your heart with its chill. It will sap away every sunbeam your skin has ever felt, it will remove the memory of fire. The water in your small body will match the sea soon enough and you will finally float without effort when you stop shivering. Such an endless horizon will never have its fill and will suck out the life of all it touches. So have your fun, pack your picnic, but never forget what the ocean wants from you.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741