A speaker sits on a wooden dock, smoking and staring at the waves, and uses the quiet moment to say goodbye to a past relationship. The falling ash becomes "the dust off my youth," and when the cigarette is flicked into the sea, it stands in for the former lover, whose "ashes" drift away on the water. The speaker admits the memories are painful: the breath feels like a whip on a bruised back, and the good moments are drowning in debris.
What stands out is the speaker's decision about the story. Messages in bottles will tell future readers that two children loved each other, while the screams, tears and anger stay hidden. The speaker seems to protect a gentler version of the past, keeping the truth "under lock and key." The mood is wistful and bruised, but also quietly controlled, a mix of grief, resignation and tenderness.