Shore-lines.

Still, I fail to understand
the rhyme or reason
of the deep blue sea.

Because the waves had no rhythm
The tides, no rhyme.

And lying on the shore
was worthy of no poetry
but that of my inner
curses.

The sand
under my eye-lids and under my skin,
tearing me to shreds,
needed no more hyperboles.

And still, you failed to understand
and continuing,
a subtle numbing of my mentality,
the removal of my appreciation,
and the slow, scraping, sterile surgery
performed on my heart-strings.