As she lay in the sand

Her feet would always itch

But every time she moved an inch

She found  another bump

in the road, another lump

in her throat and

by the time she collapsed in the sand

she had seen

a thousand sunsets

and she had been

a thousand women in between

and if you asked her she would say

she was just waiting for the day

the day when everything aligns

when he would read between the lines

and just show up out of the blue

but she wouldn’t say it had been you

all of this time

and if you offered her a hand

she’d say you couldn’t understand

there’s virtue in her idleness

and only later she’d confess

she was just worried that her weight

would be too much strain on your gait

the weight of all her fairy tales

the wait for all those handsome males

that she would crush

you to pieces in the rush

that you could crash

down or get a rash

and that the demons in her head

are interesting but better yet

they’re better dead

and if you tried to fight and say

you’re willing to help anyway

she’d tear you down, oh, can’t you see

she is as strong as she can be?

she needs no man to tend

to her, no man to send

her chocolates or

flowers anymore

and

as she lay there in the sand

you never dared say the line

that would have saved up all your time

“This thing you’re so long waiting for

that you’re not moving anymore,

this thing as great as it can be

you don’t think that it could be me?”