I formally apologize for my constant visits with my own thoughts. I'm not finding what i need to find at the bottom of a bottle or on anyone's lips. My lungs aren't blowing out my venom and I don't know how to breathe in gentler things. But this isn't meant to be a reminder or an excuse;  this is meant to be the last attempt at simpler seas. The words that leave my mouth are hollow promises of the words crawling from my fingertips, so please don't hold my mouth accountable for my unreliability.

Many messes ago, i spun you into a metaphor. This past time i told myself that you and i were a ship, but i finally found the flaw in my logic

You were never the ship

I have been drifting around in the dark, and you've been the lighthouse guiding me home.