commitment

there is the drought, and there is the drowning
you're raining torpedoes into the hollows of my paper thin skin
before sinking gently into the depths of my soul
and all i could remember of you
was the way you were so full of the world,
fishhook scars beneath the curves of your ears,
the whites of your eyes
the way you cradled heartbreak between your palms, gave life to the things that slowly destroyed all that was left in you
i remember wanting to unravel; to weave myself around your quivering soul skin over skin,
for you were reeking of west virginia, the milk dew of your childhood homes
and the thousand suns that have risen in the wake of your dreams
listen; i'd let you thread over the landscapes of my flesh and let your bones wear me down to grain
if it means finding the right shorelines that'd bring you back to all the right places,
to the quiet of my horizons, to a place where there is no sea, no sky
i'd let the soft of my world crumble against the sharpness of your walls
if it means you'd stop twinning strings of hope around your neck
if it means you'd stop going on train rides to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles and miles on end
i'd do what it takes to move you, for i am no longer afraid of mountains, and of the things that will fall out from the realm of your words
i am no longer afraid of the things that could break me
for what it took to understand, was four blood moons and the etymologies of language,
and all you needed was for me to run my hands over the creases
and undo your knots one after another.