Though we were before
never in the same tide.
Does this mean we’re worth the history?
Our ties parted all those years ago-
a ribbon cut on a whim.
Though that ribbon was crafted from blood,
it was deprived of oxygen-
no breath in it to give us life.
So thin that it could not keep its colour.
Ruby veins trickling away down the drain,
Where we raced forward over towering waves
the crescendo of rapid currents
ripping through infallible memories.
we acquiesced to separation.
Losing sight of one another,
drifting without care in casual opposition.
A disheartened ocean.
out of pale tides-
your hand reaches out to mine.
So close that I could catch it.
But when I stop and think,
mellow currents still interrupt
bitter with distilled poison.
Jagged breaths choking me
until my chest threatens collapse.
And though I’m sorry for it,
and though now
I can wish you happiness..
I still float further away.
Because I can’t help but think
that to reach out to you …
could not possibly be worth it.