Shipwrecked.

Ice cold isolated inferences ignored by both me and you, resulted in the resignation of our hearts, as they split, and cut in two. Separated now, we are forced to accept our own unique worlds. Yours is filled with wonder, while mine keeps failing to deliver pearls. My lonely kick start heart keeps waiting for someone to come and take it by the hand, to pull it through the darkness, and to lay with it in the sand. With my future still unplanned, I continuously seek out others to turn it around, as I lose my footing, nearly tumble, slip, and falter, hoping that another will bring me back to solid ground. Anchoring my ship to prevent me from sailing out into the middle of the sea, I incorrectly assume that happy is a state of mind that does not exist independently inside of me. Without you, my heart is colder than the Arctic where it may as well have been conceived, but with you, it refuses to thaw, remains as cold, and is still ill-received. Bereaved, I prostrate to the Heavens, asking why each boat I ride in gets wrecked and washed ashore, why they always seem to hit invisible icebergs, and sink to the very bottom of the ocean floor. Titanic ailing orifice that pours my emotions out and unto you, it becomes no secret why I always end up alone, and rather subdued. Wilting wailing flower that I become each time I pick myself up and fail again, makes me wonder if the fight is not worth the fall, and if all this sacrifice is just in vain. All of the rivers, lakes, and seas have tried to tame the wild that occurs naturally within me, hedonistic until the last drop, I laugh harder, and turn it all into a game. Yet I still try to call all the shots, and desire to keep you around whenever I yearn for the warmth provided by your body and its flame. Passion seeps through my pores, poking at me until my vessel overflows. All I ask is for you to rescue me from my eternal suffering, and the violence of its throes. Pleading for the soothing rain to come another day when I am more prepared, I know the universe has a sense of humour as it would rather see me in despair. Alone, but never lonely, I need to wait until the opportunity comes knocking once again. Until then, I will remain focused, and devoted to maintaining a healthy relationship with myself, and becoming my own best friend. No mater watery graves, or drowning deaths, they are now ghosts of my torrid past, the tempests, and tsunamis of temptation, and truth will hopefully be best if saved for last.