Sunday, April 12, 2015

the love story of ferdinand magellan

she was the ocean
with waves pounding upon the shore
swallowing grains of sand with every inhale
and spitting out tangled webs of seaweed
exhaling nothing but controlled chaos

he was not the swimmer
visiting for spring break with friends
wading in tidal pools of ecstasy,
but the voyager ready to map out
visions of their future

he felt her pounding against his skin
curving against his body
with the utmost delicacy
leaving him cloaked in a silky gossamer
dipped in droplets of desire

and when he made her laugh
ripples of sanguine sunshine
twinkled throughout the horizon
and when he made her cry
treacherous storm clouds melted
into lightning bolts of vigorous rage

but he did not escape
when she destroyed sandcastles
of creativity and innocence,
but ran his fingers through her hair
staining his fingertips with adoration

he spent nights leeched onto the buoy
subtly bouncing into her subconscious
until one day he poked too far
and she spit him up onto the shore
dehydrated and depleted

she felt broken and busted
jagged and jaded
because countries of pandemonium
planted their roots around her body
and continents of conflict grew in her mind

lost and dazed
her rage ignited whirlpools of fury
and tsunamis of confusion
because she no longer knew who she was
with parts of her here
and parts of her there

so he set out to touch every coastline
letting her know that her vibrancy
exists in every corner of the world
and he sailed to each port
navigating her pulsating veins
with the galaxies of stars
that reflected in her eyes

he discovered sorrowful aftermaths
of deserted shipwrecks and accidents
hidden deep in her heart
but also found glittering trinkets
locked in chests hidden under debris

he traced the spiraling coral
that hardened around her bones
but felt the soft sponges that
absorbed the agony of everyone
who baptized their souls
and cleansed themselves of sin

she somberly watched
bits of herself evaporate each day
climbing ethereal vines into the sky
but he always filled
the vast void in her languid core
with reminders of life

she was the natural palette of colors
that he used to paint pictures of
hope and rebirth
and
together 
they were art

4/12/2015
8:16 pm