Down With The Ship

The sea was always my soulmate,

but to her, I could never be faithful,

for just like every messy, misinformed mermaid,

the pleasures and luxuries of the land were always too much of a temptation,

and so I watched her weep,

as she watched me leave,

swearing that this was the last time,

and that THIS time,

she would see me be happy,

and that would make her happy.

It’s a myth that letting the ones you love go will eventually make you happy,

a particularly cruel one at that,

and I know it to be untrue,

because of the way she would run to the shore,

her tears spilling over the barrier between my world and hers,

how her rage became regret, swinging back and forth again and again,

until she got to be a little smug,

seeing me swim back out to her waiting arms to admit that she’d been right after all.

If you go down with the ship,

they call you a hero and don’t laugh when you drown,

like a sentimental idiot,

but not every ship is worth filling your lungs with water.

My lungs haven’t been dry for a while,

and I’m swimming again.

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