The Ship I Wrecked

You were the ship I sailed on.


I don’t know what a man does when he finds himself in the middle of the ocean, holding on to a wooden log for his dear life, trying to remember the swimming lessons he might have taken when he was nine. I wish I knew, because right now, I am that man. People say that closing your eyes helps to get rid of your fear, that is why you close your eyes when you are sitting on a giant wheel and it’s speeding downwards. I wish I could close my eyes too, Darling, but I can’t, because every time I do, I feel myself drowning, like I used to do in the deep blue pools that were your eyes, when we were first falling in love. Only this time, drowning doesn’t feel so good.


You were the ship I sailed on.


You were the most beautiful ship ever—a ship with masts of promises and sails of undecipherable words of love that you used to murmur in my ears, late into the night. When we started sailing, I had hoped that we’ll never see the land again, because Love, with you as the ship, only a fool would want to reach the shore. We never cared about the direction we sailed in, as long as water was all we could see.


You were the ship I sailed on.


Together, we watched the moon make love to the ocean, and heard the ocean weep on the new-moon nights when the moon was nowhere to be seen. We saw the stars shed tears from the pain of their separation. And I was so scared of losing you that I never noticed when small holes appeared in the sails.


You were the ship I sailed on.


Suddenly, the water was too much for me to bear, the ocean too deep, and the ship, far too small. Your murmurs of love were replaced by my screams of fear, and sometimes, pain. Whenever I woke up in the middle of the night to find you running your fingers through my hair, I wanted to jump in the water that surrounded us. I still didn’t want to reach the shore, but I certainly didn’t want to keep sailing either. Suddenly, I wanted the ship to sink. Yes, Love, I wanted ‘us’ to sink.


You were the ship I sailed on. You were the ship I loved. And, you were the ship I wrecked.


See, Love, sinking a ship isn’t easy, but it isn’t very difficult either. Soon, the screams of pain were changed from mine to yours as I wrapped my calloused fingers around your neck, choking you to death. You looked beautiful then, Love. Your eyes looked as deep as the day I first saw them, even though they were now glistening with fear.


You were the ship I sailed on. You were the ship I loved. And, you were the ship I wrecked. Or, were you?


Maybe I was the ship, and you were the anchor that binded me to life, the anchor that I lost. I will never know the answer, Love, for I now remember that I never took swimming lessons when I was nine. I hope that I will find you as an anchor in death too, like I had found in life. Till then, adieu, Love.


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