The way you speak to me

is a balm taken from the sea,

molded and refined

to heal my broken soul.

When the winds have left me broken,

you hum into my ears.

I follow your voice when I'm lost—

those times I cannot see,

when I’m surrounded by that thick fog

of knives and daggers.

When I'm crippled

with heartache

and feel

everything other than

nothing,

and then nothing at all.

In those times,

I follow the melody

you cast from your lips,

and I make it out alive.