I Want to Be Your Ocean

I want to be your favorite shirt. Not the shirt you wear like a mask to all those starched stiff occasions in life where you feel like a person playing the part of yourself as an adult. I want to be that super soft cotton shirt—the one you put on at home when you’re alone and want to be comfortable. The shirt you wear when you’re being essentially yourself because there’s no one to impress. The shirt growing thin with wear, but that you’ll never grow weary of. I want to be your favorite shirt.

I want to be your pillow. The thing that holds your head at night and helps you fall asleep. The thing that is closest to and that literally supports your dreams. Rest on me. Depend on me. Wake up feeling restored and freed. I can be trusted when you’re most vulnerable. Let your cheek seek my other side when you need to feel cooler. I will not judge your snores or drool. I want to be your pillow.

I want to be the air you breathe. I hope to smell lovely—like fresh-baked bread, a dewy field in the morning, or your mother’s perfume. But even if I smell ordinary—like cereal growing soggy in milk, a new band-aid, or dish soapI am here for you. I am filling you from the inside—helping you live. I am at once necessary and taken for granted—as invisible as I am needed. I want to be the air you breathe.

I want to be your ocean. I want to be massive enough to consume you, strong enough to protect you, and calm enough to soothe you. I want you to stare at the line of my horizon and know that all things are possible and that my love for you is infinite. Swim, float, play. Hear the crashing of my waves. I am a world unto myself. Explore me. I contain multitudes. Join me. I want to be your ocean.

 

I Want to Be Your Ocean by aabsofsteel

I want to be your ocean.

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