Sailor diaries.

As I set sail in the high seas of the Pacific,
Every moment in the light of day,
Feels like one with an albatross around my neck,
As I signed to bondage on this deck.

As the skyline changes color,
I'm continually reminded of a familiar twilight,
Whether on Dreadnoughts or Galleons, as I steer,
It's for your face I pine, to appear.

As you distance from me by the inch,
It's your tender embrace I crave for,
Will you call it the case of the Rubicon,
When I return home, forlorn?

That intimacy makes the waters seem shallow,
And yet I'm perplexed  if you wanted me to stay,
 I would gladly succumb to the Davy Jones',
As without you I'm just blood and bones.

Everyday is a Friday writing poems on end,
As I thought you were my anchor during turbulent winds,
And now I seek refuge in limitless grog,
Like the Flying Dutchman I continue to slog.

As I send across a message in a bottle,
Could I be more damned for the red on my skull,
Yet, I know you're the treasure I was looking for,
As I fight for you, I want to end this war.

Though November winters turned to April warmth,
Every passing second without your presence,
Feels like the Johan over my head,
Into uncertain infinity as the waters spread.