I’ve been wrong quite some times

How did I get here,
drowning in anxiety, lust, and devotion?
This ocean, these waves
keep thrashing me back
on to the shore
and when I look up, there you are
playing my guitar —
everything yellow and bright
has hazed my sight.
I can just hear your music,
my music,
one I sang to you when you were sick.
You still are, we both are,
hopelessly helpless together.
But still, I feel crushed
it annoys you, doesn’t it?
Yet you look at me 
and smile wide,
all my sweat and tears
washed by the tide,
and I feel calm.
I feel at home.

But do I love you, you beautiful?
No, I’ve been wrong quite sometimes.



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