On an Island

There is this island
where we live,
surrounded by blue waves
and cotton ball clouds.
The sand is hot
and stings my feet,
but the rains will soon come
and abate the pain.
I wait for them
and I wait for you
to come back
on that tiny boat.
We lounge under night skies
beaming light from space,
and I think
that we are on one of those stars,
one of those planets
far out into nowhere
instead of here
on the ground
where the island
keeps vanishing
into concrete
and snow.
You take my hand
and whisper you love me
and the sand is back,
the sun on my cheeks
and your hand in my hand
instead of smoke on the wind.


I’m feeling off so here’s another confusing poem. Sorry, readers, for not having my mind right these past few days.




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