If there was boat
with paddles
I would use them
to sail away from here.

There wouldn't even need
to be paddles.
I would use my hands
to gouge out the water
to create an open
wound between the two us.

I'd have something
to look at to know why
every time I'm near you
I can smell fresh blood in the air.

I'd find splinters in the wood
and push them into my chest,
because at least then.
I'd know why I'm suffering.  

I'd get an infection
and I'd finally be able to go see my doctor
for a diagnosis on what was ailing
our relationship.  

He wouldn't know,
but you'd be able to tell from his expression
that he wanted to lie to me--
to spill some philosophical rhetoric
into the sea around my boat,
so I might stop sinking.