olderthanthenight.

Sometimes it is like I am in love with the sea,
and when I am away I am just empty, and longing, and tragic.
Nothing could compare to the draw to fall to the tides like ichor,
and nothing could ever be the same.
I am always pulled toward melancholy and troubled thoughts,
distance.
Like maybe if we hold tight enough, I will feel whole again.
Like maybe if I hold my breath a little longer.
Like maybe if I am the one who answers your questions.

But if we are living in our heads, when are we real?

It is like we are a binary system: just two black holes.