I tell myself not to message you.
What good would come?
Our paths diverted
Separate roads for separated
Souls.

Yet I see your smile when I awake
And sometimes when I'm down
Like a beacon of hope
Guiding this ship home.

But you are not home.
And I am no sailor
Tackling the elements
And winning my way.
I am drift wood
From a wreck lost way out to sea
Long, long ago
Under a listless moon
And the only witness
Drowned with me.

So I will not message
And the letter of my heart
Will remain unwritten
Floating with the wreckage
Which is me.