you, my dear: weighed heavily on my heart today; your sadness blanketed me, and encompassed everything, that had led us astray:
the drunken bath tub shipwreck, and the cracking of our compasses.
what maladies only a year adrift could bring?
but you having appeared before like a bottle that had washed ashore sent by the sea with a script so often read, that my eyes would sore over and over once again,
with hopes they were addressed, just to me and my absence. pulling apart every vowel with deeper hopes to pick apart their meaning.
but between your words, and between you and i, and the half-filled emptiness of our loose leaf lives,
i've heard these tack-hung pictures tell: of your voyages and the other captains, bound for hell.
and so i sent this note and map, in faith, afloat. to help navigate your journey back.
and though today you did not ask me for a raft or for the truth:
yes, even on dry land i still hold my breath for you.