Your song

if i could save you with a song, i'd pry open my jaws and sing pangaea out of the milkyway-ocean.

i'd open my hands wide, part my lips and pour my heart into the wind's silver arms. i'd let my voice ride high along the horizon and dip below to fish the moon out from her hiding place, tease the sun into kissing the silver light. and when the world was bathed in gilded chrome, i'd grab your hand and haul you from your watery grave. i'd pull the murky sea from your lungs and spit it out, breathing deep the toxins and filtering out the silt from beneath your tongue.

and if you were to cough and dredge death up again, i'd sing you hymns to calm the earthquakes and tremors from your palms. i'd trace your veins with comet tails until they burned through your flesh and set your bones aflame. i'd press meteor kisses down your spine, carving the chorus along your hips until you believed the words that sparked wildfires beneath my ribcage.

i'd sing until my throat was dry, until the words ran together, until it was nothing more than the warbling of the wild river. i'd plant orchids between your fingers so you could hold life, drape velvet promises over your shoulders to keep you warm at night.

i'd cradle your head and sing us through the valley's shadow.
until we sat showered with celestial light, i'd sing to you.