Empty shores

How do you do that?
How do you do what?
You know
Say it
Say what?
The thing
And the thing would be?

Blush crimson, uncomfortable
Flustered, wanting to run for cover
Awkward
Lay it on the table
Oh that’s easy
Just say it
And then cross your fingers

It works, all the time
Ah ha! If only
If only what
That iota of courage
Seems to be around
A sip of liquid luck
Murky brown with a golden tinge

Too old for the purge
That comes the morning after
Or you could
Fight for it
Oh never mind, you should just
Yes, I’m listening
Leave it all behind

Empty shores
And plod on
Dont look back
It will prick otherwise
Oh. I wish it would prick
And bleed
I could get a taste of it

Bitter disappointment
It tastes better than indifference
It is cushier than the cynic’s chair
Unfamiliar but comforting
I’d embrace it all in
Instead of disregard and disinterest
They’re old friends

I’ll come back to them someday
And we’ll talk like we used to
For old time’s sake
So that at the very least
A sharp jab of nostalgia
Will hit, maim and injure
A sweet sensation

So goodbye till then
To dreams of
Hushed talks and delicate laughter
Empty shores with pretty pebbles
With sunsets that illuminate
Waves, that ebb and flow
Names traced in the wet sand

The title of this poem has been taken from a verse from the song “Centre of Attention” by Jackson Waters

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