Worship

Dying in open water has been a recurring nightmare for me as long as I can remember I have faced the fear successfully several times, but the butterflies don't stop coming We arrive at the harbor and rent a boat named "worship" The spiritual undertone is a laughable paradox to the seeming sea-worthiness of the vessel We went out and anchored near a tidal island of snowy white sand and laid out happily This was the first time I caught him staring at me Nothing horribly creepy, just lingering eyes that would wander across my body Let's just say there are certain skeletons that are better left in the closet For months I was a frozen butterfly I was numb and bitterly cold I don't have many words for it He left in January and would hear from him here and there (Often saying he was a "changed man") I guess I believe it