we drank stolen whiskey out of glass mason jars and discussed the finer points of having no jobs and we came to a conclusion, we concluded we'd come with ourselves to each other to life and for love. and we shook on it. oh, how we did shake. on a fire escape, risked eviction, we drank and broke contact in such beautiful ways and i felt like a pawn, an insignificant piece but i moved a bit closer and changed the whole game. and a pregnancy scare had you keeping the kid and i thought about myself in your position and i thought about the jump from my third floor apartment and i thought myself right out of the conversation. and you wept. i looked away. the city slept. you had already picked out a name. i chose to stay. and you mentioned with worry, that since i came back i've been chasing someone that i feel i lack though the drinking died down and i hadn't bought a bag you felt surprised i had lived through the summer past. and though my actions disappointed you then, i was there now and that was more than could be said of anyone. so now i give chase almost every single day, my calves have grown stronger with every plan laid and at night, i go in search in light so dim of everything. i'll make a promise, a pact so sincere: that no matter the "there," i'll always be here. through the slings and the arrows of which we began, you're the answer, my reason, what i mean when i say, "the end." and i won't trade that for anything, for all of my shortcomings and the seeds that you're sowing. you had me, you have me. and i'll shake on it only if you shake on it.