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.
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