I do what she bids me to do, to come or go, to live or die,
to take deep breaths when in the deep sea or not breathe at all.
I do whatever you believes I need to do, so she can thrive.
It this thing love that makes me float like a cork on these
terrible ways, where I cannot be certain where my life is, what it ought to be,
she, biding my heart to hers, even if she knows not, tied to her life in bold knots
I cannot until, if that is what I want.
I do what she tells me to do, to breathe or not, to dip deep
into this eat we see as love, but which may not be, and I suck in the tides
deep into my lungs, drowning in her wake, like a dreamer.
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