Driftwood Hope

The ship sailed, pushed from shore with
my stowaway heart aboard. Hope and ocean waves
pulled it in; the gusts breathed into the sails
in remembrance of your breaths blown
across my skin. Your toying with my strings
rocked my course, or maybe it was only
the turbulent waters that left me wondering
in which way would lay what I
searched so hard for. The hull splintered
on rocks just beneath the surface as my desire
splintered on dashed hopes beneath my surface.
A ship can be repaired with new wood,
some nails, and time. I've run out of timber
and I've never learned how to hold things together.
If time alone could solve damaged vessels,
my veins wouldn't have to be filled by
the stinging salt waters I find surrounding me.
Is it better to be adrift on the past or
drowning in a new sea?