Pirate Heartache

I shall reinvent voice,

because me hears

the sound scurry beneath

me skin as I sleep,

and the hull of my heart

holds regrets that look like rats,

I would swallow the anchor,

lower sails for good,

but her eyes be

a black spot,

set to blow me down

into the depths,

where I will feed fishes

in her honor

until me flesh is no longer

written on the maps of sharks,

and the plank holding

the imprint of me heel,

will form an arrow that points

to the well of pirate tears.

and she has made an ocean.

but dead men tell no tales,

and the treasure of her

lies marooned on a shore

beyond the reach of sails.

I wait for the storm,

so claps of thunder

can make me forget.