Part of Your World

There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.

Jacques, pirate, finally breaks up with his mermaid girlfriend.

Jacques

I quit. I can't keep up with you anymore. I can see the looks my fellow sea dogs give me, and it's pity. Pity. It's like a bad swig of rum, something foul in your mouth that putrefies your throat and twists itself all the way down into your churning stomach. I can't be looked at by them with your looks too. It's two different swords; one through my gut and another plunged into my back. I can't do this anymore. You make me weary of love; you make me long for this home we've created here to be crushed to dust.

You're amazing. You really are but I can't keep going like this. Literally, I can't. Do you know how exhausting this lifestyle is? You can swim faster than any pirate can sail. There's just too much for us to handle: you're immortal, I'm a human, you sing beautifully and I hurl myself over the edge of my ship for you. Thank God my shirt sleeves are so puffy; otherwise I might have drowned. And then we wouldn't have had the chance to get to know each other. But you're still cold. I would hold you all night and you never warmed to me. And I'm not talking about just the poor circulation, or biological survival tactics. You in fact, are a cold person. Not once did you hop up on my ship, or take an interest in my raping and pillaging. I am fascinated by you still, yet all you seemed concerned with is brushing your hair, or singing, or gutting a fish. Which is very impressive, and still turns me on, I mean, how do you do that with just your mouth?

But Love doesn't mean having to hurl yourself off your own ship for someone. Or it shouldn't. And it shouldn't mean holding your breath for someone either.