coffeewhiskey

The girl with the anchor around her neck
oh christ, the weight, is what she said
And waking with it around my neck
choking like her mom when she begot her
and how I called her out,
with her mast of a tongue and the direction upon it
and when she cries its just salt water she swallows
upon her wrist a tattooed compass that spins
as if it has any direction to follow
I am upon land, I am not your father
Kiss me until you see your shallows
hold me till the current breaks
and its the wind that fakes the waves
its the moon that you should measure
they say the moon will keep you sane.