The day the Sun sank
into the raw arctic brine,
it didn’t come back up again.
Her resolve, an
iceberg unmelted,
crashing my hull,
sinking my heart
like how it did to the
Titanic.
The Love Boat is now
just mere pieces of
splintered wood
floating aimlessly
on the surface of
the stagnant sea.
The steer,
at the
bottom of the
darkest,
deepest,
endless dead sea…
The anchor,
rusted iron,
stinging steel,
entombed under
a trench of seclusion,
alone in
despondent waters.
I,
Am not going
Anywhere.
Anymore…