by lonewolfpoetry

You called me your anchor once.

Stable, secure, unchanging.

I kept you grounded, kept your

head out of those wicked clouds.

But I sensed a tug, saw the

thick rope between us fraying,

actions defying your words.

You see, you Ulysses, not

all ships can be so anchored,

moored up in a tranquil port.

Harboured desires, unwhispered

dreams don’t vanish, they fester.

They rot, rot, rot foundations.

Reluctant, I smashed Champagne

on your hull and nudged you out

to your unknown horizon.

Alone on the water’s edge,

gazing at a frayed rope’s end.