stop comparing them to the ocean.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: September 17, 2014

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Submitted: September 17, 2014

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You're only sixteen and you're naive and you always expect people to come back, just like the waves you saw when you ventured to the beach for the summer bonfire last year, they always came back no matter how far they went. But you have to stop comparing people to the ocean, no matter how blue their eyes are or how many times you feel like you're going to drown just by being near them, because people drift and drift and drift and sometimes you can never get them back and the ocean isn't like that at all. The ocean allows you to miss it just enough that your heart seems to yearn for it and call for it but then its suddenly there again and you have to wonder if it was ever gone in the first place. But people, people can ruin you because they leave with a kiss on your forehead and a whisper of "babe" against your lips and then they just - they don't return. Because they are NOT the ocean but you don't quite know that. You're sixteen and you're naive and you don't know these things just yet.

You're seventeen and you don't quite understand long division and you think you understand love but you don't - not really. You don't understand that love has no distance and its only really the depth that matters. You don't understand that love is tragic, or maybe you do and you choose to ignore it. You're seventeen and you are sure that you're in love but you don't understand that sometimes people don't love you back as much as you love them - or maybe you do but you don't think about it when their lips are in yours. You are seventeen and you don't understand that love is a trick of light; something that you weren't sure was there anyway. You are seventeen and you understand long division but you don't understand love - not really.

You are seventeen and you know what a soliloquy and McCarthyism is. You know that Romeo and Juliet is probably one of your favourite things ever written and you know that Lolita is your all-time favourite film. You know that your youngest brother hasn't called home in several months and you know that your mum and dad barely talk to one another anymore (although you did overhear your mum tell your dad last week that she wanted a divorce) You are seventeen and you're in love and you know that you shouldn't compare people to the ocean, no matter how many similarities they have to it. You're seventeen and you know these things now.

You're eighteen and you're lying on your bed listening to his car pull out of the driveway. And maybe somewhere deep down inside you, you wish that he will come back (like the ocean) but you are eighteen and you know that not most people do and you think maybe that's the case with the blonde boy and blue eyes. You are eighteen and you know that humans are seventy-five percent water and that they might come back to you like the sun comes for the sky in the mornings but you also know there is another twenty-five percent. You are eighteen and you have stopped comparing people to the ocean. Because not all of them come back.

 

C.B


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