Seashells At Your Door

You wonder why I leave seashells at your door.

Like I am not tied to your moon

Like I am not the tide dancing to your push and pull

Drawn full or empty by the sky

Waiting between cheshire grins

And flattering spotlights

Then the painful void of your absence.

I also leave love letters on the shore

And erase them diligently myself

Because I see how you glared at the heat of the sun and the vibrant colors of the dusk

But smile when you look at the dim starlight in my eyes

Praising the quiet light they gave.

You hated the taste of saltwater on your lips.

The wind fluttered between sneer and sighs

Whispering things I often choose not to hear

Child, why offer all your seas to hands that are so brittle,

And closed so much that it can only hold a meager?

The rain asked if I planned to be like her and the river

That I should diminish and learn to love only a little.

I shrugged and watched you wade knee-deep in my waters

You never did learn to swim and just sat by the shallows.

And I could storm and rage or just hold back and measure.

You laugh loudly, not knowing this calm means you're right at the center

If I release, I'd be free but I know that you would shy away

If I hold, at least I'd get to watch you here for another day.

So I fold my ocean into crevices and paint it with clouded sunsets

I mute my devotion into a murmur you can cup it in one hand

And hold it up to your ear and not be utterly deafened.

But you wonder why I leave seashells at your door.