call me maybe

the ocean calls to me

in a voice that sounds like yours

playful waves soaking the cuffs of

my tattered jeans 


cold sea breezes kiss the

skin of my knee

through the patch you sewed

over the jagged hole

but even those stitches are

unravelling now


and i think i see you

out past the breakers

waving at me like we’re some

long-lost lovers in black and white

and i’m running after your train


but my well-loved boots

become too big

and the hard concrete rushes to

meet the tender skin of 

the palms of my hands

of my exposed knees


impact takes my breath away

like when i saw you the first time

on dry land and sitting next to me

and i wanted to hold your hand

so much it made me ache


i want you

because i am a selfish human

i yearn for you

with the tenderness of a poet

and i will follow where

you lead me


out past the breakers

boot tracks left on the sandy shore

your siren song calls to me

and i answer every time 


  • yellowrose

    I really like this . I like how you compare her to the call of the sea , and your fall onto the concrete hurts ... Just like wanting her hurts you . I can sense the seperation between the call of the sea ( this girl ) and you as if there is a pull between both of you but there is a distance there ... A distance which simply hurts

    • queer-with-a-pen

      Actually, this poem is about another man. Not a girl. It could be applied that way, depending on the reader, but I wrote this, as a queer man, about another man. Beyond that, thank you for the kind words!

      • yellowrose

        Ok , your welcome 🙂

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