Uncertainty

I am tossed about.

Knocked over by each wave,

And choking on the bitter ocean fog.

Each night I am hit more and more,

But the daytime brings the true anguish,

To surface right in front of me.

That's when I moan . . .

That's how I sank down into that darkness,

That liquid darkness . . .

The rain comes as my tears begin to form.

The droplets soak into my wooden frame,

Making me more vulnerable.

I can't take the blows much longer.

The winds whisper to me their secrets,

Trying to call me back to what I loved.

But I no longer love it,

And I wish the winds would go away.

I don't want to hear them laugh and cry as they tell their tales.

I don't want to be expected to do the same.

My trust has vanished.

Disintegrated.

Been swept away with the ocean's current,

Along with my innocence.

The bliss I now seek is gone.

But what do I do but sink further and further?

If I never resurface . . . I'll lose more than ever.

But the water still crashes upon me,

And the sea of blood still taunts me.

I am too weak.

I cannot go on,

But I can disappear.

I don't see what difference it would make now.

Not being loved . . .

Not being wanted.

And as I let myself down,

Let myself slip under that darkness,

I hear them calling.

They will not find a sunken boat.

Just the illusion of happiness and joy I was before . . .

Before that terrible storm.

For how can I go on when I am still being tormented?

Do I ignore it?

Hate it?

. . . Love it?

Maybe it is better this way than any other.

A fake relationship is better than blank stares,

Right?

I don't deserve him . . .

He doesn't think I am a sinking ship.

He doesn't know,

And yet he still comes to look out on my deck,

At the sunset on the purple sky . . .

I will never tell him.

I cannot; will not.

I love him too much.

Do I not love them too?

But I have to love them.

Revelation is only a myth . . .

But they still pull me onward through the chilling rain.

I do love them.

The next storm approaches,

And already I am too caught up in what remains of the last blanket of sorrow.

Will I be ready?

Ashleigh Elizabeth