I’ve walked this stretch of beach before,
This rocky, barren, savage shore ,
And it reveals one fatal flaw,
I’m grief stricken, I’m heartsore.
My head and heart fell like dominoes,
For one for whom my love just grows,
No soft caress, no sweet repose,
Just an ache that has me in its throes…
No warning that you’d pull up anchor,
That my love would be a vicious canker,
That for you I’d always hanker,
That my love would become a bitter rancour.
So send your message in a bottle,
In response my skin will flush and mottle,
And I’ll wish your raft was made of whattle,
‘Cause you, my dear, I’d cheerfully throttle.
© Text Caro Ness 2016
© Image +maricris cabrera