One finger on the hour hand,
I can't hear your voice.
Blurry lines,
ragged memories,
I tape them to the ocean.
But these barnacle words
cling to my skin,
bitter waters that I drink.
If you thought I was a lifeline
you would've screamed
by now.
Nothing but echoes.
  So no,
I don't want to relive
the plank I almost walked,
the sweetness in each step,
the hands I bound myself.
For what is love if not
unpredictable
and I could not walk 
for you.
Yet so close,
so dangerous,
you can't tell me
I was wrong.
More than sunset eyes,
than tangerine skies,
more than ocean trails,
than knots and sails.
Don't you look at me 
across the miles
and tell me it was
nothing.
I don't want to recall
the salt upon my skin
like the guilt upon my shoulders.
You haven't learnt yet, babe,
about the winds
that encompass true direction.
Erase your smile,
forbidden compass,
take the till and push away.
I dance over waves
with just one true anchor,
deeper than you could imagine.
Did I nearly
cast that away?
Tainted with rust
when I find volume
between us.
But there;
  a ripple...
I miss you.