February however, is a different story:
the quiet mermaid
who hears so much
I am the one who extended an olive branch to her
for once, I was the seeker
but there were outlines of a trinity between us
that we could not complete
there is another, a hero I will never see,
who the mermaid will never truly know
someone who can only save themself, in the end
no matter what we are or who we become
the lines ran too far
and not nearly deep enough
for us to open our third eye
and in ourselves become discrete,
all for one
if only I would have put more emphasis
on how badly I wanted to walk through the city at night
with her, (I knew she could sense a danger,
I knew she could smell it on me, I think
I even knew that I couldn't make the wrong size fit) but
if I would have given her a hint of how much
those walk and talks would have meant to me,
if I could have given her a little glimpse at
what was lying in the sand waiting to be unlocked if she
would only come ashore,
then she might have found her courage
but no, that is not fair
because this is not December,
and the mermaid had her reasons for staying in the sea
even if she's also a coward at heart
(a heart I could have loved her for) I cannot
pander to her sense of adventure like the other
because an exciting idea will not overtake the mermaid's
ethical core, her will to do the right thing
and thank God or whatever that she and I both had the true courage
to let the lines lie broken before they even formed a shape, because
nothing was honestly the best that we could do