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From a shallow portion of sea, it came to be everything. We were too this to be that
and too them to be those. The only place we belong is together. If we didn't know, it
wouldn't matter. If we weren't so in love it wouldn't hurt so much that we can't touch
each other. Lovers in the same house who can't sleep in the same room- unable to get along
for opening old wounds, but you're the only one I need to be close to...
Emotional, I move. Only to return to see you proud of me and try to put away old feelings,
since they are not stronger than the longing I hold without you. In hopes one day you would
lay on a bit of shore with me. Talk about how they don't get us and neither do we- until
the stars say it's okay to be together. But they never...
How can anything hurt and upset me like you do when I don't love them like I love you;
they mean a lot to me, but are not an essential puzzle piece to my being. These people, these
beaches, these schools, these streets, these friends, these frenemies raised me to be a
perfect hypocrisy of what you told me and what you've shown me- churning my empathy
to enthalpy and creativity that I can't create--a creative being that I can't be, here.
Yet my heart would never leave. When I try, your light beckons me to return to the lovely
new things I'm hoping and wishing are bubbling just beneath your surface with butterflies
that make me calm and water-bugs that make me nervous. I just love the warm salty air
you breathe, the azaleas in your hair, the shade of your trees covering the very ground
that I love, beneath my feet. Your complexity depletes and replenishes me. Keeper of my
element, no settlement can right this. So I write knowing you may never understand it
or even read this tragic Shakespearean bliss that is my love for this
Southern Metropolis.