You will be there:
Uniformed...
Perhaps mismatched...
Sometimes he turns it on, and you can't hear yourself for some moments.
Will you chip at the already cracked paint on my roomy vessel?
It was too colorful, anyway,
or maybe it was just how I wanted it.
Too bad now...
I am not sure it's going to float.
The ocean salt tore the interior and exterior, swinging its Poseidon arms.
But I thought you were wrapped up: a soft blanket around
new skin.
But instead you are red.
And I am red.
And I don't have a boat anymore.
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