Look past the sea

Bear down on me. The feelings of your foot on my throat. The matter that forms around your words. Tear my heart out and ask why am I sad. Maybe I am still barren. A pile of salt abrasive against the slightest touch. Course, rigid, an possibly forelorn. A pile of regret an anger next to a match. The has been of what could have been and the potential of everything I could be. I wish it were easy to find solace in a deity. A far flung remnant of a man who could have been an still could be. A scared child. A wanting adult. A heart seeking. A man who leads heart first. A fragile circumstance. I'm scared.