When you asked me to prove if you're safe with me:

You're asking me to be the airplane and the parachute, as well as your jump partner

You're asking me to dive down and explore your depths while I'm covered in waste and hoping I don't mess up the place

You're asking me to drive through lightning storms to Reno and be assured neither of us will lose on the poker table waiting at the end of the overpass


You're asking me to hold you so close the pressure cauterizes open wounds where our hearts keep falling out, and hoping I won't stain your clothes

You're asking a controlled fire not to burn too hot for fear of hurting your eyes

You're asking for poison and antidote to mix without either being diluted.

I'm going to need your help.