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My Heart is as Deep as the Ocean (Part II) - Poetry

My Heart is as Deep as the Ocean (Part II)

I write a poem about

the depths of my heart

but the truth is,

I don’t want just anyone

exploring those parts.

No man was meant

to live within the sea.

Men need dry land

and air to breathe.

Some will visit and yes,

I may let them.

They may find the shipwrecks

and the lost treasures.

They may fill their pockets

to the brim

then return to the surface

to gift them

to the women there.

I try to be okay with that.

I try to be okay

with knowing that at least

I’ve helped someone else

find happiness.

I befriend the anglerfish

and the Humboldt squid.

I play with the monsters

whom dwell within.

Knowing they’re not monsters at all,

they’re just misunderstood.

I lounge in the warmth radiated

from my deepest parts,

the magma released

from my beating heart.

I take refuge in

the chilly dark.

If I am the sea

and all that lives within it,

then I will marvel

at my own allure.

At the rhythmic lapping

as my surface curves,

luring in explorers and sailors,

with the promise of mystery

and adventure.

For I am vast

and I am varied.

I span across the globe.

There is no end to me,

nor is there

a beginning.

Let the courageous come.

Let them dare to reach

places few have seen.

No, they cannot stay forever,

they need the surface

so they may breathe

but still, I will become

imprinted in their memories.

No, they cannot live here.

They’re not meant to.

But I can show them sights

few will see.

And when they leave

they will always have

a piece of me.

Though they will move on

to new adventures,

climbing mountains

and crossing deserts,

I’ll know the time they spent

deep within my waters

will never be forgotten.

I’m okay with being alone,

for I am never lonely

when I’m on my own.

My psyche and my heart

carry unexplored worlds.

Within my mind,

I’m never bored.

I know too

that it’s often not the men

whom choose

to leave the sea.

It’s me

who pushes them back

to the land.

It’s me who prefers

the solitude.

Who prefers the fantasy

of romantic love.

It’s me who chooses

to swim alone

with my demons

never wanting them

unleashed on someone else.

I am safe here.

And any man will be safe

if he does not join me.

I suppose the one I yearn for

is no explorer nor sailor.

He is the evaporated waters

falling as snow onto the glaciers.

He is the icecaps melting into rivers,

traversing the lands

to find me.

Knowing that when at last

he reaches the sea

he will be free.

The essence of all he’s made of

will join where

it's meant to be

merging into waters

as deep and vast as he.

He will finally have found

his home.

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