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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