If I was honest about it

I will disregard passion propaganda
renounce rolling crests of sentimentality
that easily drag me under and trap me
so I will no longer have to claw my way up
through water, through amber, through history--
soporific reveries kept barely afloat

it no longer matters whether I’m adrift
because when your lips burn my skin, I see
midnight sky spangled with stuttering fireworks
and your fingertips drawing me past
the meridian create seismic disturbances
that ripple through every cell in my body

and perhaps I am not so alone when I feel
your arms enveloping me, like the sea
ready to birth dreams I didn’t dare dream before
with wave after wave pulsing fantasies
pushing me up and pulling me down
forcing me to dive deep for your affection

and I do again and again and again
often forgetting to come up for air
because I’ve been distracted by your depth
your commitments and convictions
dedication and devotion embodied by
your favorite Chinese character

yet once in a while, when I raise myself above
the height of each coming current, I panic
on the brink of sanity in danger of plunging
and plummeting but your knack for calming me
(so I can make a few not-so narrow escapes
from death, drowning) keeps me buoyant

of course this hope of earth-shaking intensity
has not capsized to the sometimes stormy
sometimes treacherous, always unpredictable waters
but if you need to know, you could toss me towards
the rocky shore, splintering my vessel into fragments
so how can I say you cannot shatter my world