I write this to you
who has lived a hundred years
alongside your broken heart.
The bargaining stage has come.
I will build you terrariums
filled with apricot sand and fat armed cacti.
I will fashion stars with my hands.
They will cascade from your ceiling
and through your limbic system.
These stars I sculpt will illuminate
your dreams for years.
I will construct an army of jellyfish
to fend off any threat while you
I will hold your hands, eat your fingers and toes.
I will listen to your cries and your laughter with equal thrill.
I will, someday, write you a better poem.
I will do all these things but first
you must survive.