wanderer

I woke screaming,
begging for the warmth
you'd implanted beneath
my labyrinth fingerprints.

The yellow flecks in my eyes
are not your private constellation,
but an anonymous confession,
concluded with a forged signature.

I took the liberty of encoding
apologies with echoing
proclamations of "forever yours:"
lost in translation, leaving only
the emptiness of my voice.

I cling to the whispers
in your breath
like life boats in the Atlantic
attempting to grasp a foggy
beam of light from a
phantom lighthouse.

We have discovered this ocean,
but where do we go from here?