I wait on tides for directions etched out.
The Atlantic breathes colder
Since we're all getting older.
Her heartbeat slows down
As tired horses with blinders
And hopes built like sand castles.
Sleep is a bitter medicine
And far from a vaccine.
So my mind remains quarantined
With no one checked in.
I can't forget where you've been.
Neutralized aspirations about where you'll go,
I'm just missing the things that once defined home.
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