Building Sand Castles For Mermaids

A Woman’s heart is 90% ocean.

The 90% that remains unexplored.
The 90% thats just remains of relation-
SHIPwrecks littering ocean floors.

After tripping down memory lane enough
She starts sweeping the pieces underneath
tidal waves of secrets. Then waves
goodbye to love like one-night stands.

The blueness makes blue our favorite color.

We yearn to skinny-dip into an ocean of Her.
To let Her emotions run deep into the lifeguard
of our arms.

The 10% is what we can’t take our eyes off…

What our hands vogue shadow puppets of at night…
What foxily creeps into our sweet dreams when
we’re sound asleep…that is until we fuck the
angel out of Her.

But don’t worry Love…
I promise somewhere there’s an
island with your name written all over it.