I hear you,
yet I have yet to understand.
Why must it be,
lost at the sea, your sea.
Speak to the quivers
of the shore's rising belly.
Fingers quivering through sand
Such soft sand warming your thoughts.
Speaking through touch.
Silver tears? Why?
Hear my song of sorrow.
Speak with the sea.
Hear my imagination
of realism.
Just a human, just a shadow.
Longing for the warmth of another
within my beating drum.
No poems, no art.
Just me.
Just real.
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