If you told me you were the ocean I’d believe it,
Until the tide came in and washed the color from your eyes.
If I told you I was a mountain you’d laugh and say I’m five-foot-two.
I swallowed the moon
To pull you closer to me,
But you ebbed
When I was waning
So here we are, separated by so much sky.
I heard you were a waterfall,
A whirlpool, a torrent,
But I believe you are a leaf on the surface
Of a stuck-still pond
With overtaxed veins
And tender edges.
People are quick
To label quiet men
I know better.
We’ll build worlds together
And tear them down one island at a time,
Like pirate gods or monsoon spirits
Still at odds,
Because I chose the devil
And you chose the deep black sea.