I would walk through fires of your nightmares.
Spend my last dollar to buy you necklaces of the most beautiful adjectives.
In my free time, I’d work as one of life‘s ghostwriters.
Would alchemize tears into a Niagara Falls of uplift.
Pick the locks of your most deeply hidden hurts.
Be the monkey bars on your playground of monkeying around.
I’d cut words from magazines of your old miseries, rearrange them into an alphabet of new beginnings—
anything and everything to live with you in the Hotel of New Moons.