Stranded

 I washed up on your island
To pick you clean
All your inspirational bits
Scattered seashells 
Ripe for gathering
Souvenir daydreams
I will dance in the shadows
Of your bonfire mornings
And after I turn over
Each grain of sand
The tide will inevitably 
Sweep me away
On a sweet sea breeze
I’d rather float in that abyss
Than drown in an ocean 
Made of my own tears
Did I wash up on your island
Or did you find yourself on mine
It makes no difference 
The beach here feels divine 

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