Desperation is an ugly color on my bruised, aching skin. It’s a panel of screaming horrors driving away my fading illusion of comfort. “Take me! hold me! save me!” Me, me me, ignore all the others. Be my escape.
I’m dreaming of strong, soft arms, not shielding me from trouble but bracing me against it. We would weather this storm, you and I, if you would ever appear.
Will it be in the thickest storm, when you come and rescue? I’m lying on the deck of my mastless ship, flayed open to the salted waves and hear me! Someone, save! The winds are beating beating, the waves are howling, howling and I, I, siren-struck I, and thrown away, call to sea-foam maidens who never answer.
You. I see you from far away, like a distant ghost, conjured by the schemings of my hideous fantasy. Away, false hope! Let me hear no more of your terrifying words.
Just to be held, fondled gently, kindly, in a warm, dry embrace. Your arms would be guide and shelter, and I would cast anchor, ground ashore in calm meadowgrass.
But please, if you would not love me in return, cast me finally away, no longer drifting, heart-lifting, ever falling, I will, wave-follower, seeker, empty-hearted friend. Let me fall away, sinking softly, ever smiling into the great wide dark. And no longer dream of you.