my last act here
was to turn tail and run,
bleeding heart not quite
to a torrent, but damn near
close enough
and i pushed my little
wooden rowboat
out into the waves,
aimed for the horizon
out past the breakers
i know that there was
nothing for me to break here,
but three sheets to the wind
and alone, that’s hard to believe
my guilt is emptied
from the stomach over the side,
suddenly seasick and so
far away from that shore
and i’ll go back eventually,
after i’m done laying against
the soggy wooden boards under
a sky choked with storm clouds,
like the way your name stuck
in my throat
and maybe you’ll be there,
waiting for me with dry clothes
and open arms
but even if you’re not,
i’ll understand,
and still keep the coffee hot
and that candle burning
for a little while longer