AN: SORRY FOR SUCH A FOREVER ABSENCE! I hope this piece makes sense. Its metaphorical, but you get the gist! Haha. I hope everyone has been well! I've missed you guys!
Oh, tried and true sailor, her woes are unbeknownst to the world abound. Such meager mirth to give such a feat of transcendence, was it not? Such eyes wrought by sunlight and heavenly pallor sank ships that lined many a shore. As she set sail for a concrete shoreline from an imaginary world.
Her red scarf shining in the evening sun as the autumnal wind whisked her inky curls across a painted skyline. Her breath, so sweet and innocent, blew a name like a kiss as she was drowned.
The barren nothing of the hole was wrought with bone and matter and vine. Oh, silver was the beast that held on, grasping at her heart for one more moment as she dissolved. Was she a ghost? A Spector of a tomorrow unknown?
A song that was sang was never as humble, or well versed as she in her command. Zephyrs of color withdrew beneath their ankles as the last spark of magic entangled the green feathering around her body. She was absent, losing her destination along the warmth of the absent terrain.
He, the burdened, stood steadfast in wait. His skin withered with age and his eyes were sunken like the ships, and his heart... his heart thrummed in time to a familiar tune as he waited beside her assumed grave. Dearest, his sailor, would surely return in this life, or in centuries foretold.
Both wept in silence as the stars crawled in time ridden patterns across the blanket above them. The seal was stoned and separation too true. Those days of innocence amongst the fiery throes of tempests and things of lore were gone. They were secrets and her love was bound to a scar.
Many a night, the masculine hand met hers against the same fold, soothing the ache in the old trunk. Adjacent in motion, the would be lovers spoke softly in remembrance amongst the branches and static of their worlds.
The sailor, the darling girl, became a woman within those days. Her eyes could no longer stand the sight of what she had become, and gazed longingly at the whites and greens laying upon her bedside.
Her lover would be true? She cried mercilessly as she disposed of the garments in the mouth of the time testing well. Should her travels be forgotten, perhaps they would transcend in place of her own body; which sorely pleaded for the sea to part and return her home.
The brawny boy, still bathed in red, leapt at the plume of nectar floating through the lateness of that lonely night. His weathered eyes were sewn with dew upon his lashes. Could his sailor have journeyed back to him?
A snapping in his heart pushed his body in haste. When he arrived, his hands clambered for the lost treasure. Clutching it to his chest, he felt the familiar stitching in the soft fabric.
There, he slept in a blanket of his beloved girl. Tomorrow would bring suffrage some more, yet the relent of such a gift from
heavenly hands made him even more the pious.
None forgotten was his sailor, sweetly swimming through the forefront of his memories. Oh sweetness like the flora, he pleaded, come back to me.
Each night that passed was bittersweet, yearning for the morning his sailor would return to him.