I cannot remember the last words you spoke to me before you went out to sea. I remember the smile on your lips as you held me tightly in your arms, your face buried in the crook of my neck. I remember the warmth of your skin as your(more) fingers brushed down my arm and I remember the soft, gentle spark in your eyes as you leant down and whispered in my ear.
But I cannot remember your words.
I have tried every day since you stepped into the dark, inky depths of the ocean to remember. Each time I delve deeper into my memory, searching for lost meanings to words forgotten, the vivid picture of that day fades further into a grey sea of nothingness.
I remember the frigid breeze blowing in from the North, bringing with it black, angry clouds. I remember our footsteps imprinting on the white sand of the beach, each time our feet sinking just a bit more. And I remember the salty spray of the water against my face cooling in the wind, chilling me to the bone.
I begged you to stay, to delay your journey, but you went anyway. You stepped into the abyss and you have not come back.
The sun rises every morning, and with it, I wait. I wait for the day the sun lifts over the pink horizon and I see the sails of your ship standing tall against the backdrop of turbulent waves and fluffy orange clouds. I wait to see you standing at the helm, steering towards the docks, towards me.
There will come a day I will hold you in my arms, and darling know, I will never let you go. (less)
I chucked the bottle. In it a note.
"Go kindly, fuck off."
I hope to think, that someone will find it. When they find it, I wish them to believe someone, somewhere was out to sea.
On an island. Alone, maybe with cheeky monkey pal, or a talking parrot.(more)
Away from it all. Where he wanted to be. He got away, he won. Got as far from the stresses of daily life, it was an endless circle. He saw it at an early age, and it was driving him mad. Needless, endless till you met the end. He needed out, but not that way.
He searched, prepared, and left. A tiny boat, a small island. He crashed into the rocks for good measure. He was there and didn't want to be found.
He would hope no one misses him, he said his goodbyes in hie own cryptic ways. But this was for himself; for a change.
As a cathartic message, years into his stay on the island he wrote that note, as a link, to the outside world. Letting them know he was still there, out to seas and happy, also to fuck off.
Thats what I wanted when I wrote that note. Someone to feel like that. My wish, my daydream.