My Love is Like Taking a Trip Alone

My love is like taking a trip alone
with no one to call when the flight’s delayed,
no one to pick you up and drive you home,
and no reason at all not to have stayed
another day. Or three. The bright moon shone
along the shore, catching the crested waves,
spangling the iridescent foam.

You could have almost had a good night’s sleep
away from everything, but everything
kept welling up from somewhere in the deep.
All night long you listened to it crashing, 
wearing away the sand until it seeped
under your bed, damp twisted sheets thrashing,
shipwrecked for tides of loneliness to reap.