Memento Natare

The ocean sucks.

I've felt
the way
you stir in
your sleep,
the warmth of your legs against mine,
my mind struggling to understand

the words you're failing to whisper,

and the movement of your hands

under me, trying my best
to take things as they seem

and not get stuck thinking over ever word

while visibly shaking, surprised to feel anything,
"I'm so curious as to what you think of me".

It's ironic,
the way you come to me
in dreams, you're not the same;

you've seen the worst in me,

figment of a fantasy I failed to create

fit with slight glances to instigate

a craving I can't recall, you dissipate
as I'm left stranded in this space, 
waiting to be washed up with the tide,

you said I should just stay,
I could grow gills if I tried,
but I'm weak and lazy,

"please, I'll be anything"