Sailing

He's like a ship I keep trying to sail- across an ocean that soaks me in fear. Holding my fear in his hands, as if his hands were my fear. Stepping in front of me like a shield, pressing back the waves so my skin could dry. Never wrapping his lips over the sharp points with a kiss, as if it were all the padding I needed. Instead, he lines our shoulders, side by side. So our feet face the same direction. His hands set sail without keeping me.