Strike your match on the arches of my feet. Break my spine with your Hades look. I never want to walk again. But if I walk, I want to broken crawl. I want to limp. Drench me in your apple cider scent. Yell song lyrics into my torso; tarnish my whole surface with them, tether me to them. Break me behind the knees and build me up somewhere else. Stick out your neck so I can admire your countryside. Oh what a lovely countryside. I could erect houses on that countryside. I could tear at the flowers on that countryside. I could shed my former selves on that countryside. But only if you repent all your skins your bones, your afternoon shadows, your trombones. Only if you show me your obsidian pasts, your dark decisions, then take them swiftly away. Make me think I know you when I do not.