My Love

Sometimes, my love for you, is a blank space on the page…

The      absence          of a ship blocking my view of the beautiful glistening waves,

in the harbor. There is no stink of the unwashed sweat, no crusted salt, no grime to arouse my need for space.

My love, is not locked in knots of fraying rope, nor clinking metal chains,
 not rusted, waterlogged or garnished with clinging pests,
 not irritated by the drum beat of the wind on wrapped sails, 
 not anchored here at all, in anyway, not even a little.

Yes my love,      for you  -that blank space… in the ledger.

The      absence,          the ship that I’m so desperate to see rocking in the waves

of the harbor. There is no stink of unwashed sweat, no crusted salt, no grime to arouse me.

I’ve no need for space.

            My love, not locked in knots -like my stomach, not bound by clicking ligaments,

               not soothing me away, nor emphasizing my shape,

               not in rhythm with my heart beat, nor guiding, nor inspiring

               not anchored here at all, in anyway, not even a little.

How far gone, my love, how long, will you be at sea,

       Are you lost?                 If not,

                                                         come home for me.