Locked in a lighthouse
full of melancholy windows
fogged by fingerprints long forgotten.
I watch you mumble
on the shoreline
far and without a key to free me.
Come to save me from this
land I thought I loved,
you know what is best
for my innocent trappings.
A message in a bottle
carefully separated from
the boat's side,
you are trying to come back here.
And I realize you can't see me,
grief too heavy to empty,
so I paint again these walls
that they might resound your
writings when you travel,
in such sudden arms.
