…In a broken voice, rasped, he wailed,
though the taste of her lips still lingered in his blood,
how murky her face had become
in his worn out memories… He was on the verge
of tears and his moist eyes were cast
far away in an effort to remember it…

His hairs were brittle like a sailor’s,
having spent a long year out on the open sea,
beneath the ruthless sun, breathing
salty air through his parched windpipe, all day and night…
He claimed to be a sailor too,
with the ocean replaced by his own deranged life…

Until he could taste her lips again, he affirmed,
his heart wouldn’t rest from treading the ocean waves…


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