Rooted Deep

Your body is like lead,

and your hands grasp my neck,

leaving me

heaving 

heavily,

gasping

for air.

And you leave me 

weeping 

through dusk

for I feel so 

deeply

intoxicated 

in fear.

But you weigh me 

down like anchors,

every time I set the sail.

And you serve me a plate of guilt

and glass 

or two 

of your tears.

You’re aiming for

for the perfect chord,

and you’ve lassoed me down,

now 

19 times 

you’ve taken the crown,

while naming me 

the hoard.