The Archipelago of Regret
—a poem where every island hides a memory, and every wave remembers
He charted seas with trembling hands,
A compass forged in shifting sands.
Each isle he reached, a past undone—
A love, a lie, a setting sun.
Dark rum poured like an elegy,
Aged deep in time’s distillery.
Allspice laced the salted breeze,
A clove-sweet drift through deadened seas.
The lime, a sharp and sudden squall,
To wake the ghosts and breach the wall.
And bitters, blackstrap, bold and dense—
A taste of guilt without defense.
He sipped. The tide returned once more,
A thousand shores he’d drunk before.
Each one a name he never said.
Each wave: forgive. Each crest: instead.
📜 The Archipelago of Regret – The Recipe
- 2 oz Dark Rum
- ½ oz Allspice Dram
- ½ oz Fresh Lime Juice
- 1 dash Blackstrap Bitters
- Garnish: Lime wheel or a map you never followed
Instructions:
Shake all ingredients with ice until the storm passes.
Strain into a rocks glass over one large cube.
Garnish as you would bury treasure—carefully, and too late.
Best sipped alone on a quiet dock, with just enough moonlight to remember what you tried so hard to forget.