Strung out like all the miles stretched between us,
a week is a long time to be away
from a despondent story with too many elements
still jostled about like ships on an angry ocean.

Glimpses of home have become my escape
from this too long escape from home,
the pictures you post that make me smile
when the frothing waves caress my bare feet.

Love is sacrifice
the roadtrip radio crooned.
I choke away a bout of tears
so nobody sees my fear of coming home

because I’ve taken time to know your heart;
sunken, drowned, in a coma of hope.
I know if he tries to stir you while I’m gone
there won’t be a place to come back to.

And awake, if you do choose to trust him again,
who would I be
to say anything to deter you
besides be careful?

You’ll utter a generic response, warmly meant
while overlooking the real nature of my words,
my true love surrendering, allowing you this chance
to chase after your possibly misguided heart.