Storms

 

He was my storm

I was his shelter

He, with dagger and compass

I, with torn heart

Stood stone still

A bringer of darkness

I was his light

Shipwrecked and broken

I picked his ruins

Salvaged the grit and the glass

He shivered from fever

I lit the fire

As he dreamed of ships in the night

Of sirens and seas, of pirates and plunder

I polished his pieces, held shards to light

Disturbed and addicted to Aigaios’ charm,

He swanned in the clutches of tempests

I swayed with symphony and sound

He was my storm

I was his shelter

Or was it the other way round?

 

~ Oceans and Storms

 

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