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…

We are four drinks in when I pretend to trip,falling into your lap as I ask you,with the sweetest sliver of curiousity that you ever did see,if you’d like to be my mad King of Scotland. You slur, affirmatively,mumbling,your memory hazy and your vision vivid,hands doing their best against the attacking alcohol,lost on their way…

Let me forget the things I cannot have,let them fall from the fingers of my melancholy memory as she learns to laugh again.Let me live without regret,running from the rain to my very own veranda of violet daydreams,because there are things that are not meant for me,but better days are draped around my shoulders,and I…