They say, “The sea is full of fish to find,”
As if my hands were built to cast a net,
But love has never anchored down my mind,
No bait I’ve thrown, no catch I’d seek or let
I, a lone sailor, drift without a line,
No bait, no hook, no wish to ever snare
The saltwind sings of long-lost valentine,
Yet I just crave the quiet open air
The stars don’t ask whom I have kissed or kept,
The moon does not demand a hand to hold
And I, alone, have wept the way I’ve wept,
Not for lost love, but tales I won’t be told
And if you ask why I don’t chase or wish,
I’m simply just allergic to the fish
