Though I be oceans

If I push you away, do not leave, for I am probably in the chasm of a pain so wide, it swallows me in days. It’ll spit me out eventually, and dear I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I hope you’d be there to tie me down. I still do not know how to love without being broken and splintered in so many places, that I’d hope you’d be forgiving, despite the stakes I aim at us.

If I throw those broken ‘me’s at you, please lock them back inside of me… and know it was not you whom I was remembering. Know it was not the present I was lost in, but the past, and give me time to reinstall my gravity. I trust and love your prints, but my brain stumbles over fingers: They can be used as hooks, and I was a fish once before, but lord never again.
If I forget your touch within the memories of another, please sink your fingerprints into my lungs so I may breathe nothing but you and ‘now.’

If there comes a time when I forget the ‘now,’ please pull me into your mouth and swallow me; give me somewhere to take refuge, for I am probably two panic attacks away from falling from foundations. And hold me, close—so close that I wonder if we’re one—and let my sweet ears hold all the things you love. I will try to remember them, fashion an anchor, and fall back to you.

If there ever comes a time you love me, please let me embrace you with the fiery depths of suns and wildfires, and let me apologize: loving ‘broken’ should fall upon no man. Then let me kiss you, with tears in my cupids bow, and let me live inside you (a lifelong shelter), and breathe in you, until I am not 'broken' and you are not 'tired,' but we are 'everlasting'… and, please… never let me go.