Island of Misfits

Part One: Tragedy Befalls the Sailor A sailboat is the vessel of my love, its shape is the shape of a dove. Pure and white and blinding bright, at any point upon the sea, and at night when all the stars come out to play you'll see me there and wish me away, because my love was just too much, you said you lost yourself, and now I'm dead: I died the day the moon sank down beneath the ocean, there to drown; I died the day the sun lost sight, behind the clouds of loveless blight. Part Two: Now So Broken I died when I could not draw breath, each breath was like the fist of death; each word that I had memorized, every verse you spoke, I prized. Love, someone told me, is a gift of the heart, that eternal rift, Wow was I a fool, that I could think but each thought's a stone to sink into the chasm, and into the cracks. My heart'sa pool of melted wax, You took my heart and played with it then you got tired and broke it. Love was just a game to you, not a promise of a life for two. Part Three: But There Are Others To my surprise, and to my regret other toys were stacked and set, crowded together, huddled so close on the island of misfits where rows and rows, and rows of toys were predisposed. They were the saddest children, I supposed, and I was one of them, lost and alone; no one to love, and no place to call home. For home is where the heart is, they say and I say, when your heart's a stitch away and hanging by a gossamer strand, shouldn't someone sew their brand? Like a tattoo, love is a defamation of sorts - just ask any one of my new cohorts.