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.