Washed up

Still glowing in the darkness

of my mind, your face,

soft, bright,

and salty wet.

You found me

when I was so lost

I thought I was home.

You wormed yourself

into my apple

with your forevers

and talk of one

in a million.

Now the brookwood

washes up on the beach

after the storm,

worn, battered,

and disregarded.

Some promise.

There was a time

then

but it's gone.

I'm washed up

too, now,

and done with it all.

I love you, even now,

and I hate you for that.

I always will.