how could I have not sown salt
with my slow tides and
saline promises.
grace gave way to a curse
and the garden withered.
give me a small piece of shade
and I will wash the road
from your feet
my kindness might sting,
there are no saccharine kisses for
your weariness
but there is a boyancy
in the ocean of my blood
If you can protect me from the sun
I can offer coolness
a brief respite from the
currents of life
together we might make it
to another night to
shelter in the embrace of the moon
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