Across The Atlantic Poem by Heather Marie Mortimer

The ocean you're on has been filled by my eyes
Each drop in the puddle like an ancient torture.
The breeze on your cheek was blown from my sighs
And chills my whole being upon its departure.
The waves that swell and crash are tormented cries
Like my hero lost on some grave misadventure.
The pain I possess is the greyest of skies,
A hurricane surrounding the source of my rapture.

And the tides guide the rhythm as my love grows and dies
Each day and night renewing its own forfeiture.
At the bottom of the ocean is where my heart lies
In the darkest of depths to escape your capture.