I don't have a destination.
I don't have an anchorage.
Drifting in the ocean currents.
With a repaired boat.
I have no where to go.
Miles away from the land.
I row towards your eyes.
Don't avert your eyes.
Or I'll be eternally lost.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
