[This is not another pretty sunset, this is a burning ship.]
From where I sat, sipping some cheap tea, I could hear the waves crawling up and down over the dirty sand. There were so many things in the water, half-invisible hidden in the blue depths.
Feathers. Plastic caps. Fume. Rolling stones. Fish. Oxygen. Oil. Waste. Rings. Holiday memories. Dead seagulls. Broken planks. The moon at night.
I couldn't quite get rid of the thought that one part of me was going to join them soon, the rest of the thing I called heart. The rest of this unsteady thing you left inside my chest.
When you approached me, on this pier during this sunset - which was a Viking funeral after all - your words sunk deep, past the bones and into something that wasn't physical. A bit located over this 300 gram-muscle, under my ribcage and close to my spine.
Nowhere near my brain or my lips.
This ache, this longing you talked about should declare my name but I heard nothing.
I couldn't hear my own thoughts anymore.
And maybe I deserved better than this, maybe I deserved nothing at all after what I had done. But here I sat and here you stood. And I didn't know where my body started and the pain began. Where my soul trembled in something fearful and my heart was in rage and where my breath slithered over my lips.
I'm a complete and utter fool.
and over again
[This is a god damn burning ship.]