Lighthouse

My hurt runs deep. A ship, lost at sea. I thrash against the ocean. The wet dewy breeze sprinkles my cursed flesh with purpose. Every drop a reminder of existence. With each minute I am dragged further from land, from the beach that waits, not for me, but for her beloved sunrise to shine and warm her sparkling grains. But right now, just my ship and the cool moonlight, casting shadows of forgotten memories across my deck. Too peaceful. My anchor grasps her chains around my neck and leaves bright red imprints of her choking. She does not let go until I am falling into the vast black sea, my ship sinking beside me until we finally reach the sand. She pulled me back down to Earth, no, into the ground. Buried in the sand I remain a living and dying sentiment of hurting. The lighthouse perched above the surface, dim and uncaring. Below her my ship, now only wood left to rot, untouched by skin, decomposing by the second.