Monday, 9 January 2012


A fondness docked in callow,
Harbours walled by candid coasts.
More lucid than the shallows
That enshroud the forlorn ghosts

Of those that went before,
With scenes aloft such limpid skies.
They left these lowly shores
Ergo; their celestial demise.

She too chased the unattainable,
And forayed t'ward mere ideal.
An affection buoyed by spectacle,
She had lost what it meant to feel.

Save a hull so heartened and stoic;
This craft would not so readily relent.
But like a moth to moonlight he danced
In her swells of discontent.

So left exposed and conquerable
And unhinged by pitiless winds,
A once forbearing vessel
Now sits moored to a callous grin.

And like the cadaverous beams
That lie strewn on her barren bed,
His bows are heavy with hysteria
Of a past that's not yet dead.

And whilst the infinite healer
Can bring rest to these anguished beams,
His bows will fracture further
Against the waves of artless dreams.

So brazen she'll inhume the memories,
Sepulchred to an insentient shelf.
And far below the yearning tides
He'll lie; a stranger to himself.

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