Rendezvous Deux

Adrift on these choppy waters, my hollowed hull groaning in protest
as the waves crash its splintered boards- my sails, thread bare and scarred,
stained from voyages long since failed, scream in the night as my boat surges on through this storm.
Still I bob along in a titanous clash of angst, of despair on this quest of survival, or is it of acceptance?
If I conquer these roughing swells, I win your approval- gain access to your port?
But your harbor is a wreck, cursed with sunken bows and shards of the glass
these wretches used to carve fear and loathing upon your heart
then left you bleeding by the wayside with nary a hope of even a pirates ship to sail by
to find your wilted body lying starched upon the shore.
Should they steal what still remains of your life amongst this sand, these waves-
I will find no shelter here beside your grave where you have long since, in rest, lain.
I secretly longed for my ship to dock here, but my final voyage has run me too late to see you breathe,
and between the beating and the bleeding, what life to save you have I left in me?
You are bound to these decks by your blood, for life.
If I were to lower my sails here, you would be free to unfurl your sails around me;
I am unafraid to stay but in even trade, your port is not safe- for what anchor have I left to ground me?


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