Literature
An ocean of love
Swimming through pools of regret.
Seas even.
An ocean?
Ocean of regret.
Am I a horrible woman for loving a man like you or are you the horrible one because you made a woman like me turn into a monster, turn into you?
We are the terrible ones for loving
the right souls,
in a very wrong time,
we both knew,
right from the start,
it didn't stop us from falling,
it won't save us,
it won't stop us from drowning
in the ocean of sorrow and despair,
in the ocean where our souls first met,
the same ocean which used to be full of uncertainty.
Now it is certain-no amount of love can save the drowned-there is no luck for the fallen ones-no compassion for the heartbroken ones-there is no safety for the lovers.
You knew there was a risk.
You never knew how risky it was.
How can you predict the depth of an ocean?
How can you predict the depth of a person?
You can never know until you start swimming.
You can never know until you start loving.
An ocean of regret for the times I've spent drowning for
