Dear Maria dela Cuesta,

that night, you sat with me at the helm.  
you pondered on what we'd call our daughter.

the light in your eyes lit up the realm,  
you wondered what she'd look like born on the water,

For a moment, i joined you in that fantastical exile of tomorrow,  
away from dormant pain, away from egotistical debates,  
away from the reptiles we'd become built from our sorrow,  
toward a future that knows not of our present mistakes.

For a moment, we were nestled in the blissful abyss of promise,  
our own ship of theseus, replacing every rotten plank until  
only our names remained.

Was that...was that our shared dream?  
Or another memory I’ve stretched across a seam?  
Perhaps I left my mind among the wreckage, still fastened to a beam.

The years have made my memory falter,  
everything looks more beautiful through saltwater.

It has been two years and two months since I drove our ship into the rocks,  
two years and two months since I drove you from its deck.

I wonder if you ever found another vessel,  
a command of your own, a separate peace,  
a permanent home,

or perhaps you found your way back to land,  
vowing to never set sail again, cursing the sea  
for making your heart bleed.

\-Alberto Cinco

(fictional names)