Oh la ah la
ooh ah la
i remember fun days
and bitter cuts
from your tongue
you say dreaming
I walk beach sands
thunder beneath my feet
I would believe you
but I see my cuts
and still they bleed
my ocean — emerald green
it tastes salty good
your ocean a crimson-red
and dead fish at my feet
sea shell flotsam
the key for my gate
I. Break out prison
and run to my beach
Poseidon my lover now
:: 05-01-2914 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 