By Megan Spreadbury
I remember cold dark nights
lit with nothing but candlelight
my solitude hindered in virtue
and nothing to move through,
my mind was blank
calm waters flowing by the bank
and sediment was the predicament
as it crept into shoes, unsolicited
but the bay water became bothered
every sailor still standing hollered
and within the sea
respite became the entity
every being envied
as we sat so still, empty
from the way the world turned
watching it burn
and nothing was quite as beautiful
drunk moonlight watching excusable
our attitudes unbearable
holding onto pain intolerable
but watching the fire
our thoughts turned dire
held up on the wire dipped
from birds which whipped
with wind
knocking into sin
burning bright orange red
reflecting off that water, dead
waves seeming unbothered
by the sailors which squandered
so thoughtfully for their last breath
but in death, we lay unkempt
every attempt at breathing unfeasible
so we stay alive, unbelievable
how the tide could tire our minds
and I sit, still watching the world divine
and divided by those unrequited
thoughts tossed to the loss spited
by sea where it lays in envy
of every thought of mine that’s empty
we’re at a stand still
it wants my soul to kill
but with that luxurious death
comes the shuddering depth
that in a blink, on the brink
of being swallowed by the sea I sink
into the embers, imperative
that I burn myself out of the narrative