1832

There is an unspoken code of honor between you,

that keeps your love chaste,

pure,

clean.

(You don't know that it's the only good thing he allows himself).

Sometimes you see him scratching

at the dirty blood in his veins.

(You pretend that you don't know why)

He'd tear himself apart.

(You'd never let him)

Sometimes, it feels like you're caught in the current of a jealous river.

And you struggle to keep each other afloat

as vines and nymphs drag you down.

(He eases you awake, and says "easy, easy,")

There is a trust.

(And he never comes too close.)