She. 

A word you know so well

it swells in your liver,

sinks in your bile duct,

harpoons your kidneys.

She is your white whale. 

The flag you will wave when you 

taste her love. 

The oil you will drown in. 

She.

The gown you wrap around your knees at night when you can't sleep for fear of a sound that no one else but you can hear... 

if they hear it... 

you shut your ears to the sound. 

When all you want to do is 

let go

and let the sound

wash in

across your body,

capsize your lungs,

drown your lips,

fret across your forehead.