From Martyr, To Mariner 

Some people like storms.

I like people – & storms inside of them. 

To be carried away by their ripping winds; rise with their undivinable tides.

To undo the knots in their stomach & ground them in seasoned experience. 

Taking that first breath of relief; embracing the release of tension in their ropes. 

Getting to the safe place, replacing the rust & moving on to the next. 


But a more devastating tempest awaits, one I’ve never charted before. 

At its center, a vessel with a volatile, self-sabotaging captain at the helm. 

There’s no Hell or high water that could deter me from climbing aboard. 

And shouldering the violence of the wicked waves determined to overwhelm. 


I want to get caught up with you; I long to be tragically swept away. 

I lust for the lasting burn of your kiss on my cheek & my words to blister your tongue.  

This disaster is an Act of God, but God damn is it the catastrophe we crave. 

I’ll ride this one out with you as long as you promise another one will come. 

You like storms.

And I adore the eternal storm inside of you.