Underwater Basket-Weaving

Underwater Basket-Weaving

I’m drowning at the bottom of my wishing well,
A steady stream of air bubbles breaking at surface
But there’s no oxygen reaching my lungs down here.
Slow suffocation is worse than burning alive.
If I could, I’d swim to the top and pull in great gulps of air,
And swim for home as fast as my legs could push me.
Instead, I’m caught up in the shackles of your eyes,
And they pull me back down every time I start to feel some slack.
This chain of my indiscretions was my own fault to begin with,
But somewhere along the way it grew of its own accord
And ensnared you as well.
Now we’re both drowning together
And I can’t think of a better way to leave this earth
Than to go out staring into your eyes at the bottom of this well,
Our limbs slowly weaving, in and out, in and out.