If there was anything I could tell you, I would first fasten a seat belt for those great lengths you tend to crash into

and try to convince you that every pair of blue eyes isn’t deep enough to dive into,

that the beautiful things often need fixing but
that it’s not always up to you

to press the soft curvature of your chest
against frayed edges of coast, plying
your earthy harbor to the rock salt of ocean.

Sometimes, I would tell you, it’ll end in corroding of your soft
Nature. But you are whole, I’d tell you. Goddess, you are sacred.

Blue can be fickle, water runs quickly
from your embraces
but it can also fill your creased

body. Self, I’d advise you not to weep for shallow waters

rather to have faith in the existence of deeper notions. But I can’t get to you,

I have yet to swim.