Carry you On a rowboat made of shields. The wood is to your texture of skin, A velvet, A softness, Of many nights spent deep under Your caress. Blood runs as our water, Streaming from poisoned wrists. I am in love with a crippled heart, A disused soul That does not move In alignment with the wind. I am, in your eyes The strongest sort of sadness. You reap what we cannot take On this long voyage To the petals, To the silver lakes. I carry you, I row you To the places that Neptune forgot, Though Mars had remembered. Our wars Are our places on Earth. Our kisses Are as deep as Heaven is high.