I remember swimming,.. for days.
For weeks. For years.
Against the current.
Against all hope.
Except that which I held inside,..
which turned out to be false.
I remember swimming against myself and all that I believed in.
I remember, and sometimes I wish I could forget.
Then there was a day when I said,
"fuck it."
and I dove under, to the bottom of the ocean floor.
And there I found the pieces of my heart,
All scattered and jagged and broken.
Someone had drop-kicked them,
and that's where they happened to land.
On the bottom of the ocean floor.
All scattered and jagged and broken.
So jagged that my hands bled as I scooped them up,
turning the ocean water red, and more salty than before,..
And I thought about how ironic it was, that it hurt so much,
and made me bleed so badly from my hands, my treasured hands,..
it hurt so much
to get my heart back.
But I retrieved the pieces and somehow followed the light to the surface again,
where heat waves from the gracious sun
revived my cold and hungry cells.
And with the fragments of my heart bearing a small burden,
I swam back to shore,
and found the FreeWay again.
And I'm still driving.
And my heart- it may be in pieces still,..
But my hands- they're no longer bleeding.
And that means everything.
