There's something about the sea:
In feeling a force of nature,
So much stronger than yourself,
Surround you in its embrace.

There's something about the waves,
Their raw power,
Their cool, demanding strength.

And there's something about his hands,
His voice, his eyes.
The way his body pulls mine under,
Like waves,
Indomitable, forceful,
Alive.

And I'm floating.
I'm sinking.
I'm thrown around in the current.
In his arms: the sea;
The breath he steals
Then grants it back.

And I pray only
That the tide never subsides.

mermaid purses,
vales of kelp,
swinging skyward with the swell

of nautic rhythms
- submarine -
with incandescent, algal green.

in underworlds,
cathedrals blue,
we waltz in coral halls anew,

adorned in silks
of woven foam:
forgotten cold Atlantic home.

To all my co-seafarers out there
We're a kind of man that is rare
Sailing port to port is never easy
It makes our mind look messy

Grieve to achieve more and more
We sail to make our own lore
It's hard to have a safe sail you know,
Just to make my times flow and glow

For our family's on our homelands
Too far but cannot cut our bonds
Even if we are far from our loveones
A day with them will be our lance

As we sail through depths of sea
Only the future in your eyes, I see
Partly inloved without a body,
Of me waiting to be full heartedly

It's sad to say how people judge us
Disregarding it but it has a mass
We don't talk for us to believe
Is these words is what you give?

They say we're fool and full
Fool to trust our "I Love You"
And full of girls that we've made "I do"
But they know nothing but judgements

It feels good when you're way back home
Stealing kisses and hugs that comes
Years or months? Sad but there's also weeks
But its fine even a peke on your chicks

It's hard when we need to leave again
Let we connect with a paper and a pen
Our eyes won't lie to "I miss you"
All I wanted is to be with you

As of now we're heading east
To sail to other lands for a fiest
Not to make love to other girls
I'll finish my job and buy you rose

I am a Harbor
Moss-covered barnacles
govern my legs, and my back
is drenched in fog.

My wooden walkways creak,
and the wind makes me
groan with loneliness;
but life stirs underneath,
in waves.

Ships arrive at the worst hour,
full of regrets and suspicions,
and aches and envies,
and troubles and fears.

I welcome angry sailors,
the worst of all mankind,
to drink at my tavern,
and dangle their feet
off my docks, and
stare at the sea.

They look
east by southeast, north by northwest,
to home, where only
memories
return.

Some men are bustling airports;
they welcome millions a day,
and millions a night,
see them off to other skies
and do it over again.

But I am a jealous Harbor.
I keep my vessels with me forever.
I guard them with an icy peace.
And relish in the slap of the sea.
And bathe in the salt of the wind.

He was a water sign.
You could tell by his ocean cool,
his balmy breeze,
his gently rolling tides.
He touched my skin like the sun and his kiss stung like sea salt on my chapped winter lips. 

But all seas see their storms.
He could be a riptide, pulling me deeper and deeper
until I was choking on salt water
and he was pushing me
further and further from what I knew. And he could come crashing down
like a tsunami,
ripping everything apart in his wake. 
But he was a Cancer.
Cancers carry our homes on our backs, so we choose to avoid
tumultuous weather
and brackish waves.
We prefer low tides.
So even when my northern winds
tore through his hot summer,
even when I snowed him in
and froze him out,
he kept his waters still,
not for my sake,
but for his.