even wood, my love, even bone

queer-with-a-pen

this ship and i 

have both got ribs,

crafted from wood and bone,

both housing something greater

than the sum of our parts

 

but even wood,

even bone,

can splinter and break

 

and, my heart,

my love,

there is no sign of land

 

perhaps there has not been

for quite some time,

but like the lovesick fool

that i am, the majesty of

 

the open ocean and the bright

skies above captured my attention

more than that lonely little spit

of shore growing ever smaller

in the distance ever could

 

and maybe the answer that 

i seek slumbers at the bottom

of the ocean, far from the sun

and the salty tears 

of silly bards

 

for i never was much of 

a sailor, much preferring the 

company of you and a bottle
of spiced rum to the creaking

ship boards under my boots

 

and there is no sign of land,

and i hope i never get sober,

and maybe i’ll get to see

your lovely crooked teeth one

more time as you smile so wide

and hold me close 

 

and wouldn’t that be nice,

oh captain of mine? 

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Comments +

Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    Brilliant!
    great imagery
    'but like the lovesick fool
    that i am, the majesty of

    the open ocean and the bright
    skies above captured my attention
    more than that lonely little spit
    of shore growing ever smaller
    in the distance ever could'..
    (how normality, dwindles
    in the face of raw desire;
    they call it, choices we make
    like
    a heart attack, is a choice...)

  • James Michael

    Written as only as you can do. You’re an original, don’t ever forget that.

    Thank you for reminding us of the deepest of emotions which is love.



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