Ahab.

She looked at him

like Ahab looked at the sea—

not just with wonder,

but with a hunger

that bordered on madness.

She loved him

in that too-much kind of way—

like the sea air in your lungs

after you've already gone under.

Like she could survive

on nothing but his name.

There was fear in it,

yes—

but not the kind that turns you back.

The kind that dares you

to go further.

He was not safety,

and she didn’t want him to be.

She wanted the risk.

The wild.

The pull of something

too vast to hold

but too sacred to let go of.

She would’ve stayed

through the fiercest storm,

torn her sails to ribbons,

offered her spine to the mast—

just for the chance

that he might glance in her direction

and not look away.

And if he wrecked her?

Left her wrecked upon his shores?

She would still swear

she saw God

in his eyes

before she went under.