That night, I didn’t drink. As bad as I
Wanted to. As bad as my life seemed at
The time. I just looked at the paint on the
Wall. And there next to the raised bead where the
Shipwright had welded together the two
Sheets of steel was a raised lump in the paint.
Pressing my finger against the lump, it
Deformed with a slight crunch. It was my fault.
I had been neglecting her ignoring
The rust near the waterline. The blotches
Dripping down like fat tears of blood. In the
Morning, I would address the problems with
A needle gun and a few coats of paint.
With love and hard work she would forgive me.