paper boat and ocean eyes

I build a boat made of paper in hope to reach you across the ocean. I have no crew, no companion but an iron anchor sunk deep to the bottom. I am either the captain finding path to where you sleep or the pirate drowning me and my own ship.

Your eyes are ocean eyes; blue, deep and lonely. And the same time they might be the reason why I dare to throw myself in the merciless ocean, even after knowing there will be storm and thunder and the possibility of being lost, scattered and forgotten.

There is a mermaid on my way there. Her eyes are crystal clear and her lock is gold strings. She sings me a lullaby to my sleep and for the first time after you left me on the other side of the world I could sleep soundly and dream of happiness. She has castle under the ocean, quiet and peaceful, and she offers me a space beside her bed.

I could have traded the pain you plant with new heart of oblivion, but I think about your ocean eyes and remember how I want to see myself reflected on it. I think of you because this is not about me.

Girl on the back of my eyelids, I am crossing the ocean for you in hope you’ll save me before my paper boat sinks and drown me in to my death.