She won’t turn and look at me.
I’ve gone, I’ve said it. There is no return.
The whole time, she pushed me out,
Presenting her back.
I could’ve broken down there, but instead,
I turned and told my story to the sea,
Pretending the waves would erode the magnitude of my words,
Pretending her shield couldn’t faze me,
Pretending I didn’t care.
But I did. And I do.
I only took the beginning because it was, in my opinion, the most powerful, relatable part.