If words could swim, she'd be a genius.
Just float out there, and be one with the waves.
I'd be on the shore, of course.
Through a mask.
If the world was at war, she'd be lost in the wild
I'd pick her up and hold her,
And tell her that she's safe.
On my own.
She laughs when I don't,
She smiles when I do,
I know when when she's happy,
And when she's pretending.
Once I was in a funk,
Drowning in an ocean of nameless emotions.
She would swim through.
That made me cry harder.
My mother said, "You are perfect. I wouldn't trade you for anything."
Jealousy is not a good color on me.