The sea was relentless cold.

Within his safe vessel, we huddled

in up and down, thrill and terror,

small hands stiff on chattering deck railings.

We were headed somewhere.

He promised he would take us there.

The sea eroded him. We took from him.

Jostled but warm, we opened our hands

reaching expecting demanding and

he gave and gave and gave.

He carved out his insides for us

paid his remaining years to us.

Our small hands grew into metal gloves.

We became pirates on the same sea,

newly grown edges clashing against

wind-hardened, unyielding armor:

in love, we tear each other apart. in love,

we piece each other back together again.

In this war of a thousand years,

we find peace in drifting apart

in circles, always in sight

no longer close enough to touch—

in trusting the other with

our lives but not our thoughts.