what is it he’s got that you don’t have?

is it the tide? because listen lymh,
the moon isn’t your breakfast
only the sun can call you by your name.
the ocean is only half the thing that makes up your blood
so don’t rely on waves to make you happy,
don’t step on your planet’s veins.
what is it he’s got that you don’t have lymh?
is it freedom or validation? because, only you know
how to refuse kissing the shores of him and only you know
how to forget the ring of every syllable of his name.
what is it he’s got that you don’t have?
is it the way he talks to you as though he were the wind
passing right through the holes in your heart?
can you not sift out the sand he’s kicked into your eyes?

lymh, look at me. look at me right now.
you’ve got everything and more.
don’t tattoo his walk on your arms because you said yourself,
you’re not going to be his flesh anymore.
and when he’s all grown up and still misunderstood
you’ll get to reminisce on your better childhood
where you feasted on catching ladybirds and whistles and skipping rope.
there’s nothing he’s got that you don’t have, lymh.
the whole ocean is a lemon for you to squeeze
and you must drink every last drop,
until your body is a small seashell
which some other world can love and protect.
never give up on the things you already have lymh.
i’d break the universe in half to be with you.

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