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bottom of the sea

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fists pound on my door,

rough like reef

but I open it anyways and there you are

with the ocean trapped in your eyes

"can I crash here for the night,"

like you're a wave and

I'm the shore

and I have you to thank for my sand and seashells,

but you're wrong.

You're the waves and 

I'm the moon, 

you have me to thank 

for your gentle push

and pull

and the moon owes no part of its existence

to ocean waves. 






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