Author's note: I love the character Davy Jones from POTC. This is a little introspecive piece about him. Anything Bold is being spoken, anything that isn't is the Captain's thoughts. I own nothing, Enjoy.

"What do ye know of love? It is a cold, cruel thing. The fool who catches it sickens, wanes, they pale and shiver as the poison runs its course. When that Ichor reaches their heart they are done. Love is weakness, desperation, and madness. It drives men to the ends of the earth, even to the ends of the sea, and they are lost among the tides, ne'er ta return."

I know too well, the poison that is love.

Calypso... Thy name is the sea, and thy name is accursed. Thy name is...

Love pierced me once. It dripped in my veins and ate away at my soul. But it is a toxic fluid that numbs, even entices before it kills. I felt so alive, and so bold. I was untouchable in my ignorance.
I thought, I thought I was going to die.
When I first saw her she was unattainable. A glitter off of the reef, the sunset on my sails. She was every ripple that brushed my ship, and every seagulls cry was her laughter. I could taste her in the salty spray, and I extended my arms to her in adoration that defied my pride. My will was weak.

She came to me then as the goddess she was, rose from the spray. My lover and the sea, she wrapped her arms soft as foam about my neck.

Her kiss was icy, a man could drown in her embrace...

I felt I was going to die, pass into the after in the arms of a diety. But that was not to be, for she was no mere siren luring a foolish captain for cruel amusement. No, she was a far colder creature than those wenches from the depths. She ensnared me, enthralled me, Was a constant presence with me, within me. I could feel her icy kiss on my chest. I could hear her whispers in the thumping of my heart. I knew I was lost, but failed to see my true peril. The rocks were sharp, and the water had gone choppy, but i had become delirious from the draught. I was blinded by the sunsets on my sails.

To her I pledged my life, my service hers for all time, I gave all I had to give. She took that and more. My heart would never beat for me again, it became her thrall. Helpless I lay, slowly fading, wasting into nothing.

Ten years the poison flowed through me. Ten years I toiled, depressing work was my only comfort, loneliness ate at me without consideration for my pains.

Worse than this by far was the anticipation that grew by the day as the appointed time of our meeting neared. I lay, feverish and restless when I tried to sleep, my waking moments were filled with mirages of her form. The waves teased me, the foam mocked me, and the smell of the salt robbed me of peace.

Oh... Calypso...

She was not there.

Long I stood hopefully on the sands, blind to the pleasures of the flowers scent, the warmth of the grains underfoot. The fruit tempted, the shade of the trees beckoned, but I had no thought for the treasures about me. My eyes were to the waves, my ears strained to the call of the gulls. My lover gave no sign. The salt was but salt which I tasted more and more as the hours passed. The tears came unbidden, like unwanted companions they over-stayed their welcome, refused to depart my cheeks, and there lingered and dried.

Night fell without sunset and I was alone.

I was ripped from the shore, naught but a few fine grains of sand on the Dutchman's deck remained to show that this had been our day. Our one day in ten years. The tears had spent themselves and I was blissfully numb, save for the beating of my heart which moaned out with a rhythmic thump,

Calypso... Calypso... Calypso...

Anger came and went. I ranted, raged, the crew hid from my wrath. The pain did not ease.
I begged the waves for a sign of favor, a whisper, an explanation, a single word. I cursed her.
The pain grew stronger still.
I lay listless for days, ignoring the crew, ignoring my duties.. The ache sunk into my very bones, despair clouded my mind. I thirsted, but refused drink.
She did not come.

And my heart, my traitorous heart that thudded dully in my breast continued its steady chant of Calypso... Calypso... Calypso...

Until I could take no more, until I could feel that she had killed me. If I was to die, it would be by my hand, my free will, my choice. The blade was like solid fire in my breast, I gouged madly as my crew watched in an awed silence. Deeper, deeper, The wound was dripping, weeping. Where were the gushes of fluid that should have left me fading yet? Where was illusive death? She had killed me, but it would not end. Helpless again I looked upon the massacre that was my chest, I ached, the wound seeped.

The traitor beat still, intoning her name.

Fury took me, fire in my breast, fire in my soul. I would be rid of that chanting, I could be rid of the heartache. Down came the knife. Soon the accursed organ was in my grasp, still a-beat, still weeping her name.

It shook me to the depths of my being. I cast the thing from me--

Peace, numbness, silence. For the first time in ten years I felt I could breath. I felt nothing, the poison had run its course, but I had ripped it from me. Now it was contained and I would never, never suffer its sting again. For the sake of love, I sold myself into slavery. For love I suffered, justly so, the stupidity was mine. For love I bled. It was for freedom I cut out my heart.

Now it is locked away, and with it are all the notes that hold her name, the shells we found, a pearl she brought me from the depths as proof that her treasures were as great as mine. All that bears the taint of her presence, and all that might bring her to mind. If I could remove her from my memory, it would be done, but the mind cannot be locked in a chest. It may only be distracted. I distract it well...

...save when the salt seems to smell just so, or the waves are overly affectionate.
Save when the gulls call in that eerie way...

... save when I open the locket and hear those tinkling strains.

But I am her slave no longer. Love will never touch me again, and banished with it; loss, grief, joy, hope, fear, and pain.

I am the Sea. The sea has lost its cruel mistress, I fill that void; I take the credit for the deed. Some satisfaction that brought me, knowing how she must have despaired her fate. Life is cruel, why should a goddess's life be any different?

Calypso... my goddess, my bane...

"The weakest thing in the world's a man lost to love. For that fool, death be a mercy."