Often, I feel like Calypso. Made of tide and quiet fury, a woman who belongs more to the sea than to the shore.
And you… you carry a heart that keeps slipping into the deep, the way Davy Jones’ heart once did when love betrayed him.
People say he wronged her,
but they forget what her absence turned him into.
how a man can rot from loneliness long before he rots from time.
She disappeared into the water
and the ocean swallowed what was left of him.
There’s always a price for loving someone wild. For loving something as restless as the sea.
You reach out, thinking you can hold it,
and it leaves salt on your hands instead.
Yet even with the darkness in you,
even with the storms you won’t name,
something in me stays.
I love you, you’re Davy Jones
my Davy Jones
the man wounded by tides but still somehow reaching for the surface.
I love your heart, even when it sinks,
even when it pulls me under with it.
Maybe it’s because I’m built of water too,
more wave than woman,
more longing than certainty.
Maybe that’s why it feels inevitable:
I am Calypso.
And you are the man who drowns
but never stops swimming back to me.
