Till Death do us Part
Our love is that cliché boat lost at sea,
the sun beating down on us mercilessly.
Abashed are our dreams that we held in youth,
But our mouths are too dry to speak that truth.
So we bob and we sway under circling gulls,
too listless to jump or to patch up the holes.
What fools were we to see a way out,
Leaving behind all denial and doubt.
This boat will not hold us. The sea is aloof,
And you and I are living proof,
That it’s easier to sink than swim.
