You were dreamt up in 1902 by magicians whose minds were completely lost at sea.

Me on the other hand, I was always just here.

Shaped by time and salt.

Weathered to reflect your steel blue at midday, invisible at midnight, invisible for most of my life, and then I met you.

Before we met, you were unsinkable.

A floating mass surging with power;

you sailed like the ocean was made to carry you.

We collided like you calculated your four day journey just to find me, ignoring all the warnings.

Can’t you see? A love like this they were bound to make movies about us.

Destined to be carried through decades in a water tight time capsule of love songs.

Certain to be written about by storytellers, they’d call you Titanic and they’d call us Candied Destruction, because when we collided, nothing ever tasted so bittersweet.

37 seconds elapsed before we locked lips like traveling lovers and I felt like you were on your way out again. Just as quickly as you came.

37 seconds was all it took for you to be wounded enough to sink, taking parts of me with you.

Rest now, you’ve spent enough time, enough years of grinding and pounding of metal and not enough gliding through water.

Lay your heavily burdened body at my feet and settle slower than the sunset.

A Musical

She always thought that she could have been a pianist;
The way her fingers fluttered like feathers.

She saw herself right in the centre of a half lit stage;
A Black dress, her hair elegantly knotted,
and a spotlight on her face –
streaming light from a high window.

But there was no audience.
Sometimes she would play the metal bars
like a harp, and danced herself breathless.

All the songs she sang were of the same rhythm;
the words she wrote to herself
begged the same question:

“Did I really do it?”


– ©DK


Let’s get lost among the thoughts of oceans and skies,
and the limitlessness of them all.
Find a way to sail them both, even if just in a lullaby.

We close our eyes and jump – weightless;
Our limbs carried by all the tints of blue,
and all the shades in-between so seamless.

Try to figure out why clouds are so lucky;
Having the ability to travel high and low,
To be filled with anger, but always knowing
when to let it go.

The nothingness of the atmosphere,
embedded deep within your lungs.

To be both nothing and
anxiously needed beyond compare;
Perhaps it isn’t such a bad thing if
We all will disappear into thin air.

– ©DK