This bed is a ship

There must be something in the water, something in the stars, some curse come crashing down around me– each way I look another pair of arms I would embrace is struggling under the weight of some misfortune. It’s enough to make think I should avoid you, all the ones I love, to keep you from being sighted by this storm, ripped up by roots and tossed across the sky.

Eras ago, someone asked me, is there anyone you’d kill for, anyone you’d draw blood to protect? Of course, I said, my brother.

And now, knife drawn, I have no enemy to turn to. 

Sid BrancaComment