more

it’s more than missing you
that makes me row.

rowing toward you,
my boat someday moored to your dock
keeps me going.
I go, away from the instant you broke the kiss that completes me,
the instant you traded my hands, held high
for the present.
the insufferable, inevitable present
doesn’t kill like a storm,
but dries out a sailor like the salt in her veins.
I’m dry without you,
parched.
parched, and rowing hard and as fast
as the wind will let me.
the salt, I’m dripping it from every pore,
and my eyes fill with it too,
an ocean doesn’t blink but I do.
I do, and in that instant,
more than just your lips seem far away.
I blink, and it’s an eternity until
you will be my home.

it’s more than missing you.