Roiling dread caught in my
Throat, choked my words and
Thoughts, as my insides fell
Away into unknowable depths.

Standing in the burning hold,
Clutching my empty buckets
As if some defense from
Uncaring death, the sounds of the
Crew filling my ears, plotting
Even while slipping under, frigid
Salt filling my all,
Ending me.

I thought drowning the worst
Fate to stumble on, but
With mildest of chatter,
See what emerges from the depths.

I would have killed for you
In that moment, killed for me,
Even had you begged me
No, no, never.
You fell away. There was
Only me, my
Choking pride, my
Drowning misery.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Miraman, in the year 859 AF.