You Are the Harbour
Were it not for the medicine I would not be spending an hour-and-a-half each day in a love so enchanting I could drown in it. But then I do drown in it and allow my sex to dive as deep as it takes to express a love so deep.
Were it not for the medicine I would not be sharing like this to her, opening myself, almost like confessing because, is it OK to bare my flesh? Will blood spurt from the incision, or will it be a fountain of princes and angels that scatter attar of roses as they glide into the mist?
Were it not for the medicine I would not be reciting aloud the ‘20,000-league’ journey to mother, and now finally seeing on the sea floor, the sparks of connection/disconnection to mother was what lit the guiding light of my dark search for love.
Were it not for the medicine I would not be recounting all the different ways through life I sought to yield without having to relinquish my sex, my core.
Were it not for the medicine it would have taken me god-knows how long to see what you already knew, that you are the end of the voyage.
You are the harbour… and I am safe.