Is it crying when I cry
in my mind, bobbing

like someone drowning between driftwood
the wreckages of my hope

on myself and wise doctors?
Would the chemistry of tears give

more rest, more breath
than you, your warm body

in my back, lying
together in the landless sea?

Words would float here
just as wet and adrift, today

too small to carry me –
better you hold me, please

you don't have to talk
not to understand me

come on, you don't have to
be my saver