The sea swept softly against the steel of the hull,
she had left her last words on my shoulder,
with a swift kiss that clearly stated that the word “last” meant nothing to her.
The ocean reached up towards me,
eager to earn my trust and tell me a tale,
aching to ask me why I had forgotten the art of forgiveness,
but the answer is simple.
She comes back whenever she pleases,
never showing her ticket to the doorman or asking anyone permission,
she just arrives,
staring intently at my marked shoulders,
tracing her last words with new kisses,
and then I think about forgiveness,
the weeping ocean watches in dismay,
as I climb the rails and meet it, at last,
landing with all the grace and finality of a fallen angel.