ashore, just.

I want none of this and all of it.
My affection and attention wanes and waxes with the moon,
the tides arrive on my shores steady and strong and recede just as fast.
I’d dive in if I wanted to. I know how it feels, I’ve done it before,
often and intentionally.
I’ve waited, I’ve waded, I’ve swam.
I’ve been tossed around and spit out and washed ashore gasping and weak.

So I think for now I’ll stay here,
toeing the line between submersion and aversion.
Accepting the assumed innocence
but knowing that I could change it all with one simple step.

At night I’ll return to this same spot,
slightly ashamed and wholly curious as the waves gently kiss my toes.
Telling no one, lest of all myself.
I’ll let my eyes wander over every fractured sliver of moonlight,
and I’ll shatter and dance just the same.
Silvery destruction, fluid light.
I’ll be here all night, and never at all.