No one signed his name to me.
I come with no name at all.
They say I am a young sailor’s wife.
But I was a little girl before
who knew the men without names on the waves
and the wife with no man who comes back.
A woman with this smile endures.
Mona Lisa, yes, she was beautiful
but I have different stories.
You learn them when you are less lovely
grow up with cold salt in the air
and the smell of fish and fire all around.
No one signed his name to me.
No one can without the urge to run away.
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