Peel back my skin and it won’t be bones you will find.
Hiding under the muscles the tissues the scars
and the freckles are decaying timbers washed ashore.
I am a sinking ship made of unsinkable parts.
I am an old boat, built without a rudder,
A tattered sheet for a sail.
Can you see what I’ve been trying to show you,
That I go where the breeze decides to carry me
and you, my love, are a hurricane.
I am made from the creaking beams and rusted nails
of a lonely vessel on a lonely sea.
I am covered and coated, dusted with old salt water
and the frail residue of moonlight.
The oars and the compass, the anchor and the wheel
have long since abandoned me.
Can you hear what I’ve longed to tell you,
That I go where the waves wish to deliver me
and you, my love, are the tide.
Press your ear to my chest and listen,
where a heartbeat should sing you will hear
the melancholy songs of tired whales.
The unsettled sigh and explosion of breath
as they find the surface once again.
Can you taste the salt on my lips?
Can you listen to the words I’ve been aching to say
That I go where the lights pull me
and you, my love, are the stars.
Stare through the portholes of my eyes
across the gray blue and green they float upon.
Hold tight to the timbers hiding under this flesh,
and fill the empty sail with your grace.
I am the fragments of a shattered ship
filled with ancient songs sung by ancient souls.
Can you feel me falling into you as you leak into me,
That I’m a sinking ship made from sinking parts
and you, my love, are the sea.