The Sailor

I still remember long ago, when we were young,
the lighthouse keeper had a funeral for his son,
still lost out at sea.
He told us of the day the ocean took his love away,
how we reminded him of them, he asked us if we would stay
to hear his story.
"He'd been young and he'd been strong," he said, and one look in his eyes
told me he'd already taken himself to another time
before his son had died:

"Times were hard, he'd been just barely getting by,
but he saw her at the market, and when he caught her eye
nothing else mattered.
He liked her hair, he liked her voice, he liked the way she smiled,
he asked her if she wouldn't maybe stay there for a while
to get to know him.
And they'd talk far into the night, and she made everything alright,
and every day she'd be waiting by the shore
for him to come home."

He said, "I still remember how the storm passed through, that day,
and the way she didn't scream when she was swept away,
and my son, how he'd deny that she was gone at all,
and the way he'd set adrift without a hint of gall;
and I remember how he'd spend his nights soaked in seafoam
waiting for her to drift by, to say he's not alone.
Until he called upon the tide to make a pact,
he said, "I don't care if it means my life, I want her back."
By dawn, they'd struck a deal, he'd set sail the last time,
not a soul dared follow under clouds all red, to find
that when the skies had cleared, they were no more apart-
They say he haunts the ships of men who live with heavy hearts."

My dear, they say it's just a legend, but what if it's true?
What if it's cursed, this ship, and all its wretched crew?
What if every one of us has already been drowned?
Do you think I'd even notice if this ship went down?
Sometimes I think I wouldn't, that I've been living my whole life
At the bottom of the ocean, but you've given me some light.
I made a promise to the old man that I'd stay with you,
but my words don't have quite the same weight that they used to.
I remember how, when he was done, he pulled me aside,
said "Listen, son", all shaky-voiced and teary-eyed,
then he whispered in a voice that only I could have heard,
"When my son looked into the storm, these were his final words:

He said, "I'm sorry for all of the things that I am not,
I'm sorry to the people that I've forgot,
I'm sorry to all of my friends that I've made bleed
and I'm sorry to the lovers that I've made leave,
I'm sorry for breaking down a little more each day,
and I'm sorry every single time I've gone away,
I'm sorry for the times I've made you turn your back
and I'm sorry if I ever try to make it back.""

And I remember how he clenched his fists, dried by the sea
and I remember you, in pieces, clinging onto me
and I remember all the things you've made me want to say,
all of them, things I wish I could forget each day:

My dear, I'm sorry you're the only one I want by my side,
and that you're the only thing that makes me feel alive,
I'm sorry to the old man that we left in tears
and I'm sorry that I can't confront my own worst fears,
I'm sorry if you ever got too close to me
and for twenty thousand messages, all lost at sea,
I'm sorry I apologize for all my faults
to you- you're all I have, and you're all I've got.