a sailing ship to a harbor.
But you harbored rancor
toward me. So, I rode out
a stormy sea.

I turned to you
a broken limb to a cast.
But you cast me to the side. So, I didn't
heal. I just backslide.

I turned to you
a stray homeless waif.
But you lead me astray.
I'm not safe.

I turned to you
an orange moth, circling the flame.
Both of us inflamed
with passion, crashing head on
burning in a song.