Perfectly Imperfect Me

I’ve gotten used to losing people

Tally marks on my arm can tell

And this year alone I’ve lost

The boy who made me check my email.

I pulled myself out of that rip tide

And up to your sheltering beach

I told you my secrets and stories

But all this time you’ve been drifting out of reach

I had thought you were solid

A warm tropical paradise

But I find that you are mobile

A moving mass of ice.

Some may call you an iceberg

But you will never be that to me

And I only wish we could go back

To how things used to be