Derivative.

If you are the sea
Then I am a sailor.

Sinking.
Breathless.
Slowly.
Your black bed my journeys end.

If you are the sun
Then I am a flower.

Dried.
Scorched.
My roots to starved and weak.


If you are the winning hand.
Then I am the addicted gambler.

Now encouraged
 with greater urgency
To destroy myself.


If you are a hope
Then I am hopeful.

But to no avail.

For although I have you
you are a hope that bears no fruit
A wasted wish.
A rotting dream.

But for all my fighting....
you are still the hand that was dealt me.