When we first met, I saw the glint of your armor in your eyes, the knives hidden behind your teeth always turned against yourself. You broke your own bones to make yourself stronger against attacks, you bound your spirit and held your tongue and fought your battles with a double edged sword that cut you deeper than your enemies. I want to unlock your gates, throw open the windows in your mind. There’s no reason to wage war against yourself. There’s no reason to fight your skin. I want to kiss the secrets from the grooves of your hips, whisper to the ghosts living in your collarbones:

Let go. Let go. 

Let me clean your wounds. They may burn like her name in your mouth, but her memories will scab before they scar. 

Let them. Let them. 

When your thoughts howl in the windstorms of your soul, tell me. I was born a storm chaser, love. I won’t hide in the cellar. I won’t run away. I’ve always been afraid of tornadoes and falling in love, so maybe it makes sense that I love a boy with rain on his breath. You’ll want to break apart and rage and scream a warning louder than a freight train when I get too close. 

Let me. Let me. 

I can hear the ocean in the shell of your ear, hear it crashing in your ribcage. Your heart is always at high tide, and love, I know you try not to feed the sharks. But dark thoughts fill their hunger too well. It’s not your fault. Just because your bleeding heart drew the monsters to you, it does not mean that any of this was ever your fault. I know when you’re drowning it’s easier to float, but I’m calling your name from shore. Swim. Swim back to the land that has missed kissing your skin, swim back into the sunlight. Infinity tastes like the salt of seawater on your skin, and honesty clean as rain on your lips. The current wants to pull you back home.

Let it. Let it.