sometimes
i don't know
what to make
of you

all i see
are those grey pools
half hidden in the dark
so full of silent screams

echos against the glass slipped tragedies
locked inside your bedroom walls

that i'm all prepared to
slip, drip
and surrender through

to be sliced in two
just to be with you

but the fact is
i was never a good swimmer
and you always liked me better blue.