I hope it does. When this tired flesh & bone sinks deep into the covers I want dams to be built to contain the rivers of my eyes. I want to learn how to hold my hand without strangling it. I want all this fury wound tightly around my jaw to dissipate so my cheek could rest upon the crescent shape of your palm where it belongs. Right now the world has broken into pieces & punched a deep cavity into my chest and this beating organ is all scabbed & bruised & yearning for gravity to pull it down to its knees. Which is to say that I want to be rid of this hurt & taste mangoes in my tongue & find your boat still sailing towards my lonely island, singing guilt-laden shanties of earnest promises.