Deep Sea Diver

They call me a hopeless romantic, 

like it’s tragic, like I’m frantic.

Like wanting depth is too much to demand

in a world that thrives on things unplanned.

Where looks sell love, and hearts come cheap and

no one dares to feel too deep.

“You won’t survive with dreams like those,” they say.

No expectations?

I sit and stare— the bar so low, it scrapes the air.

And still, they ask: “When kids? When man?”

As if that’s all I am, their plan.

And I just sit there, quiet, kind,

while oceans drift inside my mind—

Thinking of eyes I once met,

of hands I haven’t yet forget.

The way they brushed across my back,

a quiet pull, not full, not lack.

Just right enough to stay with me —

more than most things meant to be.

And still I say nothing. 

Cause small talk’s never

been my shield.

I never learned to fake or yield.

With a soul too wild to play it cool,

I never followed surface rule.

But of course, I’ve done the surface,

smiled for show, nodded when I wanted “no.”

And still —

I chose to stay quiet that day,

remembering the sea, the waves, the way

your voice turned soft,

your eyes turned wide,

just once, I saw no mask to hide.

I think of our last talk, staying up till

sunrise but it was just a wave,

how come this good hides in a cave.

I’d rather stay silent, hold what’s true,

than speak in ways that aren’t me to you.

That moment still floats inside of me.

That version still drifts at sea.

So when they call me “much” or “intense,”

I don’t flinch or take offense.

I am too much—for those too little.

I dive while others play the middle.

You came with your safetyboat.

I came in pure skin.

You feared the storm. I let you in.

I reached for your hand to pull you below,

to where the real things live and grow.

But you took off—and left me blue,

too scared to feel what might be true.

And still I swim, alone but whole,

embracing every aching soul.

I’ve smiled to please, bit back my fire,

let lesser loves build false desire.

I’ve worn the dress, played down the smart,

just to be chosen, not torn apart.

But not again.

No more disguise.

I won’t trade truth for softer lies.

So when they ask: “Is it worth the ache?”

I say: Hell yes— for something real,

I’ll let my brave heart break.

I’m not afraid to be undone.

I’d rather lose than never run.

I don’t chase wins.

I chase what’s true.

If that’s not you, then just pass through.

I am the ocean, bold and free.

A deep sea diver, they call me.

I write, I feel, I see, i photograph and know.

I’ve learned to rise by diving low.

So don’t assume you’ve figured me out,

just ’cause I’m soft and don’t always shout.

I’ve touched more truths than most will dare

and still I offer kindness out there.

But if you fear what’s dark and deep,

go play in waters shallow, cheap.

I am the ocean. Brave and bare.

Come find me—if you dare.