The Sea
Brimming with you.
Afraid to move even an inch, else you'll spill over.
Sloshing with thoughts of you.
A little tipsy, a little drunk on the finer nuances of your voice.
Whirling in the giddy whirlpools of your eyes.
Being mercilessly swept away in your torrential hair.
Finding myself torn to delightful little shreds by the rapids of your mind.
Skimming over a sea of your memories, tactile and otherwise.
Surging, coursing through all that makes you up and all that breaks you down.
Submerged in the pure aquamarine of your simplicity.

Sometimes bobbing, afloat in the sedate sea of your gentleness.
Sometimes thrashing wildly in the typhoons that rock your shore.
And at others, finding the ultimate anchor in the steady, pliable bed of your hands.

What a mercurial sea you are.
And to be lost in you, is to find treasures that I did not even know I was looking for.

To flow into you, always, to flow into you
And gradually, to become you.

For that is where salvation lies.
For that is what absolution looks like.

How lucky must I be,
The sea comes to me every night.