and so
we crashed and burned,
salt-slick flames licking the hull
as the sky turned away
and the sea pulled us under.
drifting, oceans apart,
i’m still out here
desperately blowing my whistle,
searching for you in the static.
can you hear me?
or are you drowning
in the silence, too?
i just need to know you made it
safe and sound,
whether you swam back
to the splinters of what we were
or found shore somewhere
with flatter ground.
please
blow your whistle or light a flame.
just once.
let me know you’re still somewhere
in this wreckage.
you always asked
what i feared most.
it’s this
not the storm, or even the sinking
but the stillness after,
the possibility
that you chose not to look back.
i’m swallowing mouthfuls
of salted i’m sorrys,
my limbs stiff with waiting,
my body becoming cadaver art
beneath the moon’s cold gaze.
no emergency flares,
no shadow on the horizon.
either you’re lost somewhere
still looking for me,
or you’ve submerged
for good.
either way,
i promise to float.
to wait.
to listen for breath,
or the ghost of your voice
calling from the deep.
and if nothing comes,
then i’ll go under, too
hoping to meet you
somewhere between
here and wherever you are.