I feel as though
we are dropping coins
into a wishing well,
setting ripples across
the small ocean
we stand in.

We push these coins
beneath our eyelids,
praying for safe fare
across the Styx;
Sometimes I wish
'twere the Lethe
and I could forget you.

Were these coins
to fall around us,
would we sink?
Would you let me drown?

I draw them
like a talisman
upon my feeble wrists;
Like eyes they stare
at my fractured soul.

I imagine pressing
my wrists against yours;
Ink on ink,
blood on blood,
giving you eyes
of your own.

When you open them,
you will see me waiting
on barren banks and shores,
rusting coins in hand.

What we do with them
is up to you;
Just know that
I will be here,
waiting.