poem

[apryllelynn]

Fisherman,

I wonder where your hands went

And when their calloused tips will come back to me

Because they haven’t been the same

Since you cast your reel into a sea of nobody’s

And picked up that whored footwear,

Five sizes too big and laced with stench,

Going as far as to wearing it into bed with you.

915.72 miles away

From the shores you are a part of,

Comments

[theplotfiles]

And I have tried like hell to wear the cloak

Of the humanitarian. I told Lucifer

“Take me”, but fisherman,

my sweet keeper of the sea,

He took, instead,

The 1 minute and 13 seconds of ecstasy

Good.