i am quiet, but not utterly mute

I sit on the bench
facing the sea, the massive expanse
of foams and buried sand,
I am sad,
I want to cry, or maybe hold a hand,
maybe have someone rub my back,
but mostly I just want
someone to be seated next to me.
Dark days come, they go,
they come again,
but as I celebrate the sunny days,
what of the days when it rains?

I sit on the bench
facing the sea, the massive expanse
of foams and, suddenly, everything I want,
beckoning me to take a infinitely long dive in.
It seems my sadness has got the better of me,
it seems to my time, attached, and to I, fond,
and I feel bound to let it make me home.

I sit on the bench,
and that’s just today that I face the sea,
because I could be facing the trees,
the TV, the books, the whiteboard,
the buildings, the cars, the fence
and still feel sad, and still have nobody,
to share my sadness with, and I wonder
if this is the price I pay, feeling the wins shrewd,
but I am reserved, not completely locked
I am quiet, but not utterly mute.