#67

Sitting on the very end of this dock
Overlooking miles upon miles of crystal clear water
My feet dangle but don’t touch what’s below
This cold, sporadic splash on my bare legs is enough of a reminder to keep me away

There you swim, reveling in the sea and all that it offers
Your limber body twisting its way through the endless waves
Pushing against the current that tries to drive you towards the shore
Your strength is matched by only your confidence

Millions and millions of creatures in this sea
Some with the aggressive, hostile nature of a great white shark
Some with the gentle, playful nature of a bottlenose dolphin
Some young, some old, some healthy, some sick
Many so beautiful I’m sure, yet they blend
There is just one with any discernible features that I recognize

You’re the one I still see
You’re the one who keeps me perched on this dock
You’re the one who has me scared of diving in
You’re the one who reminds me to be fearful of drowning
You’re the one who has me wondering if I’ll be able to withstand the current
You’re the one who has me worried about being forced inland, washed up, and beached
You’re the one who can leave me dehydrated and spent, gasping for air

Sitting on this bridge, I can’t look away
Thoughts drive me mad as I attempt to remember exactly what wedged us apart
Together, searching for this spot that became home 
A quiet little place, we secluded ourselves from the rest of the world
Exhaling for the first time years of pent-up worries
Before being blindsided by a storm that we were ill-prepared to handle
It rocked what, I believed to be, was our forever safeguarded foundation 
Ultimately destroying our comfortable, safe world
Leaving me with nothing, but infinite doubts, endless apprehensions, and eternal fears

Back to the ocean, you jumped in headfirst
With nothing more than a second to suffer, to lament, to recover
This place beside you, once reserved for what I thought was forever, is no longer mine
You meet and greet and pair up, and it all seems so easy
So many new, uninvited guests
Taken from me, my corner set aside and offered to another who knows not even my name
Yet I cling to this dock, trapped by my thoughts
And I can’t seem to move
Waiting, perhaps, for a gentle hand to guide me back in
Waiting, perhaps, for the support from others who know me best
Waiting, perhaps, for an invitation from another, in a similar spot as myself
Waiting, perhaps, for your arms to open up, embrace me, and cautiously lead me back in

So scared of the water, there seems such little reward
Trembling with feelings that torture me at will  
Terrified of being sucked under, and this time never to resurface 
Horrified of the rocky bottom, slicing me up for good

I’ll sit here and watch and scorn your ability to be so carefree
I’ll sit here and watch for at least here I’ll know what to expect

Feeling pretty lost and lacking the confidence necessary to survive after a difficult breakup.

Written in 2006

Copyright, The Poetry of Bryan Buser