A Boat

Trying to come up with some beautiful metaphor

to describe this wave I’m under.

Trying to describe people as rocks,

and feelings as moss

and changes as weight of the water.

Trying to write a

deviation of the tide

as the moments in my life

that I can’t even remember.

I try to describe old track marks as stingers

of poisonous creatures

that wrap on to my legs-

and the scars on my arms as the depth of my wave-

and the surface is love, but describing as such

seems cliché.

Trying to make sounds like ropes of old boats

snapping in the pull of the water,

All that comes out

is a bubble of doubt

that helps me sink to the bottom.

Trying to explain the sand in my toes

isn’t peaceful in pictures, it’s all of the woes

I refuse to write down,

it’s muddy and dark,

it’s clouding my vision and tears me apart.

Trying to describe my guide

as the light that breaks through foam,

and reaches my eyes

Filtered by driftwood,

filtered by distance,

filtered by inevitable night.

Trying to write my purpose as an anchor,

keeping me grounded,

built in my favor,

Rusting and sinking and pulling me further

into the trench I’m above.

Trying to come up with some beautiful metaphor,

knowing my trying won’t be enough.