The Storm I Tried to Keep

I stared into the gray of you;

it matched what I saw in my own reflection.

Dreams soaked in salt air,

as if they could be preserved -

saved for a sunny day.

Your gentle gales wove tangles in my hair then

before the fullness of your tempest

rose to shore -

rising the tides.

You cracked the sky open,

forgetting to offer me an ark.

So, I fashioned a home in the eye of you

from scrounged,

splintered,

driftwood.

Sodden to my bones -

I cupped the rain in my palms,

thinking it could quench my thirst.

I'll never be able to wash away

the sand you ingrained

into the linen of my gown.

I'll be forever haunted

by your thunderous applause

as you laughed at a soul

that you see as feeble -

as if ardor is weakness.

I started searching for a lifeboat

while every promise you made

melted,

like seafoam.

I refuse to be your lightening rod.

With oars -

and blistered,

stinging hands,

I am making my way -

row by row,

upstream,

back home.