You hold my frantic head and stroke away the madness.
I hold your hands to help you let go of the past.
You lick the doubt from my lips to reveal my truth;
I read your eyes for answers and kiss your forehead
whispering for permission to enter.
We sleep naked, on a plane far beneath the surface far more exposing.
Both of us drunk from a sobering verity
that neither of us can escape without injury…
for there is little choice here.
Lots of truth, but little choice.