There are times, you know, when all hope is lost. When you are stranded on a desert island with no chance of escape? It happens. I mean, there are things in life which one must give up. One has to forget about them, else they'll never move forward.

But some things are difficult to forget. Trauma, stress, heart break. The beauty of love is that it makes life unfair. There have been few such times in my life. Few, does not mean they did not hurt.

I have been to many places in the world, India, China and Rome. I have been to ancient dynasties like Prague and Indus. I have seen things no man can every hope to see, can never dream of, can never forget. I am old and tired. I am tired and sore and my aching bones never leave me alone. My soul is like an old flag, lifted by the slightest of wind, but worn thin by hope and rain, both which appear in the least likely of times.

Even tonight as I sleep, I dream. I hear music and I see light. I see-no, feel life coursing through my veins, but I have no choice. No one ever asked me if I want to live.

I remember her. I remember her copper skin. I remember her scent; so delicate, yet unforgettable, so delicious, like heavenly nectar. I remember her fingers, so long, so thin, so delicate. I remember her eyes, deep chocolate brown, lined with kohl. I remember her lips, like rose petals. Poetry disgusts and befuddles me, but this is not poetry; this is truth.

I remember her touch. Its phantom still takes my breath away. I remember her voice. It is music in my mind, in the worst of storms. I remember her, lithe and yet strong. I remember my heart quickening when I saw her. I remember the pain when I left. It comes to this torn mind in bright flashes of light like visions from god.

Like I said earlier, some things cannot be forgotten. The memory is too precious to let go. And I know I miss her. I know I don't deserve her. But that doesn't stop me from wanting her. It doesn't stop me from loving her. It doesn't stop me from hating myself.

There are times you know, when all hope is lost. This is one of them, for she herself, was hope.

Okay this was kind of written over a couple of months and when I opened the doc. I did not know what I was supposed to write (I have the memory of a gold-fish) and have just come up with some thing that was nagging me yesterday. Anyway, it's probably Jack's POV about an OC (woo!). I realise Jack himself may be slightly OOC due to the rather sappy nature of the thing, but ah well. And please, no one be offended by the reference to god. I am a non believer so to me god is an image of our conscience. And as they say, never discuss religion and politics in polite conversation, so I shall shut up now.

I hope you can find it in your hearts to review this attempt at sincerity from our favourite drunk pirate.

Love,

Lady Merlin.