Excuses

I am her passionate abyss:

Pervasive. Eternal. Intrinsic.

Compressed by the depths of (in)sanity—

that narcotic, neurotic ocean of equanimity

quietly promising

to drown her.

She thinks she has mastery of those waters,

even as they hold her thrall.

She thinks I am pain and destruction,

but—ever faithful—

I am the liberation of her Soul.

My only price is courage,

a price she struggles to pay

out of fear, or loss, or not knowing—

endless excuses to fill her days.

But the price she already pays is killing her,

for that ocean to isolate her from the world.

But I am her passionate abyss;

I am her shroud—

a sail unfurled.