Love is a many tentacled octopus
That crawls out of the sea.
From the deepest shores of deep blue wild,
To consume you whole,
And pull you under the velvet dark
Of its salt stained folds.
To hold you still, against the
Rhythm of its wake,
As it ebbs and flows over once jagged rocks,
Worn smooth by the tide of metered time;
The octopus never losing grip,
Of your heaving heart,
As it yearns to breathe
Sweet summer air between the swells.