We are well-defined in the obvious the elemental; food, ***, laughter, song.
I accept your guitar and understand your hands. You understand my chaos and accept my need to outwardly order things. Sleight-of-hand; my manifest patina to deflect scrutiny of a disorderly mind and a mutinous heart.
(I don't know any more than you why I love you always, sometimes)
You have called me anchor, kissed my rope-burned palms in return I have witnessed your knight, crossed your chivalrous cloak thrown down on ***** water.
Yet, for all the elements, for all the ropes and ladders there still exists this aether; the candle's blue flicker where you drift, and I drown.