My thoughts,
like a lighthouse - the lighthouse –
on a rocky bay,
illuminating my perimeter,
refracted by the tumbling waves;
I wish you could notice them –
spot them like a sailor does with constellations –
and find your way back to me.
And I wish the Earth remained
the sole continent it used to be: Pangea.
Then the Atlantic – the fallen angel –
wouldn’t keep us at a distance;
I’d walk to you
For love ‘don’t need planes.
Instead, like a tsunami,
my pulse will quake you 'til you land back
on the platform we both stood at –
where you had dropped an anchor in my heart –
where you had come like a summer’s thunderous
wind, whispering wistfully in my ear
over the crash of the sea:
“ ’Mind sharing your lighthouse with me?”
Spoiler! :
Gender:
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