Nowadays, I use this pen
The ink of its point
lending itself to the pores
of this parchment.
but it's not what you think;
or what you may have heard
from forsaken, disheveled Mother Discord.
Oh my love how your boat did sail
timidly from the coast
of my bay
departing from these subtle expressions.
Expressions that your eyes never
and your lashes never
began to see.
It's strange you know, how these midnight days
fade into morning,
just but dull memories of your sailor's cap.
Tell the captain
Oh please pleasant shipmate, remove that name
from your list
A flick of your pen
will set my love
But the ship resented my humble bay,
matching the feelings of your apathy.
And the stones of my shore,
were thrown in the wake of your obligation.
But oh sometimes I wonder,
what time would have to say?
If you decided to stay-
atop that cliff,
extricating from yourself a simple if
and how you let yourself arise that morning
while you left your front door open, the neighbors scorning
knowing that you were living
in your sea of plenty,
to end you strife.
and then you clumsily spilt your beloved ice tea,
(a mixture of your sweat and the salt from your sea)
on the blouse of that girl,
before you fell;
citrus bleeding into the afternoon sunset.