You trace your thumb across my palm and God clears his throat. This is free therapy, this is the moment where we take a breath at the same time and our faces are so close that I can taste heaven in the space between them. What would you do with my hands if I gave them to you? Do you have an answer for that? Do you have the answer for everything? What would you do with my heart if I gave it to you? Think carefully. Be careful. There's no use in pretending that we're not going down with this ship, so honey hang on tightly. Because I'm waving the white flag, and you're standing on the shoreline with your palms up. What would it look like if we both surrendered? I imagine your hello on my lips and it tastes like sinking underwater. So what if I want the misery? So what if I've given up on trying to save us from destruction? Maybe I like how it feels to have something to die for. To die for. God clears his throat.