There is no calm before the storm.

You've been quiet lately,
and I always know why.
There are nights where it
plagues me, if he walked away,
would we have a greater shot
at happiness? You try so hard,
harder than most, doing your
best to quell the hurricane
and I can't help but think it
shouldn't be this hard.

The ocean holding our fears
is constantly on edge;
it knows there is no easy
answer, nothing that can
evaporate thirty one years
worth of corrosion.

The world doesn't want
us to know there are other
paths that won't leave us
this hopelessly speechless.
Because when you give it
your all for too long,
what is left of you?

I don't want the clouds
to suffocate you anymore.
I don't want the best
parts of you
to become a ghost.
You deserve more than
this life has offered, than
he has ever given.

How many times have you
been forgotten, your vision
discouraged and rotting,
and he plays the part of
a great rescuer,
swimming to your shore yet
barely moving any muscles.

Some hearts can never
fully develop underwater,
they mimic compassion
then ingest poison
and convince you

it's for the best.