I see through your ocean tide eyes. I see you for the pain you hold onto in your cold soul; the pain that you’ve learned to find pleasure in. It keeps you safe, makes you feel alive, protects you from depending on someone else; yields you from vulnerability. But I see you.
Your touch is cold like the chill of night waves against my ankles, coaxing me to go deeper and regulate to your temperature. Come here, you whisper. Feel me, you persuade. The cold feels dangerous, but captivating; intoxicating. Your cold soul is addictive: making me breathless and tempted.
I step deeper into you, allowing myself to let my guard down. I trust you, and I feel the fear that this causes inside you. You show me your strength, and my resilience surprises you. I am not weak, my demons over power yours. I see you baby blue, testing me, analyzing me. My existence fascinates you; I am a warm soul, with a cold heart that matches yours. You thought you were alone in your isolation and here I stand, far enough away for you to miss, but close enough for you to feel.
Blinded by intensity and fuelled by the danger; my heart races with every touch and yours aches with every absence. You are brilliant at convincing the world of a façade, but it made no impact on me; I was unconvinced. I saw you. Your ability to produce charisma and energy was admirable but I wanted to see the raw, uncut version of your soul. I wanted to see the storm, the crash of the waves and the power of tropical winds. I was driven to see the darkest parts of your heart; vulnerable and honest.
Your darkness was more powerful than I ever expected. I found myself envious of your damage and driven by curiosity. Your absolution about who you are as a person left me inspired and your mentality pulled me. I let you taste acceptance and passion with a fresh pallet. And that’s when I saw you. Your natural expectation of people needing something from you, not respecting you for the person you are. You’ve never seen unconditional; this is foreign and unrealistic. Either you are unaccepting of love because you feel undeserving or you fear the pain that comes with it.
My senses are heightened around you. I am in survival mode, constantly. I don’t allow myself to ever feel the ease of safety or the intimacy of protection. So when my body tells me I never should have let you in; it scares me. When my mind tells me I should have never told you my story; it distracts me. And when my heart tells me to stop loving something so dangerous; it exhilarates me.
I see you baby blue. Compulsive and indulgent. Beautiful and rare. Ready to sweep me away with the tide. Thrill me. Swallow me. Drown me.