Waves

Your fingers are as harsh and as gentle on my skin like the waves. The waves of warmth and the waves of safety. I float on them, holding onto the edge of what seems like a slowly deflating life boat. I don’t know how much longer I can keep afloat but then I think if it would be that bad to drown into you and into your waves, so gentle so harsh; frothing with sensuality, bubbling with affection. Would it be so bad to be consumed by you entirely when I already breathe you in everyday, a distinct perfume you wear, one only I can smell. Would it be that bad to assume I know you best,  knowing darkness lies deep within you, but so does light. Would it be bad to assume you hide behind masks of humour, that it’s your safe place when you lie to yourself or to someone else.

Would it be that bad to know that ultimately I’m a bubble, that I somehow managed to make a place deep inside but will eventually turn to nothing by the time I can truly make you have faith and that by then it’ll be too late and I would’ve given out?

Would it be so bad if i knew that and I still chose to drown into you?

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