No Man Is An Island, But I Am No Man

She asked me why I insisted on existing as an island,
why I felt so frosty when she held me,
why I had to be born as the daughter of the lonely sea.
I could see her frustration,
see her point and her many objections to all the boundaries and barriers I had blessed between us.

No man is an island, but I am no man.

Maybe I’ll build her a ferry.
My lover, were you made for seafaring?
Shall I raise the Terror or the Titanic to carry you across my worrisome waters?
Or, could my love cause a collapse in myself?
Could my island cascade into the waves,
free for her to dive into?
I want you close.
Won’t you be my favourite tourist?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: