There is a harbor in her chest born of self criticism and internal unrest. She knows she is flawed, and in her awareness she burns her fingers as candlesticks to light the path she follows through near physical resistance. Freedom is at his core and in all his tail chasing antics he has wounded her seven times in seven days for seven years for all it’s worth. She peels back skin one layer at a time and paints a gentle mural of discipline and patience and she covers it back up, it comes through like a tattoo but the skin crumbles and dries and flakes away leaving the paint to chip and her self worth to decay. The messages come in conflicted, and create in him the same, he hears “love yourself” and “do better” and gives them equal weight. In all his painstaking attempts at happiness he destroys and damages others, and as he attempts to abandon them, he slowly fades away. He tries so hard but he can’t take his scars to the bank, so he sits and remembers he could turn around tomorrow and throw every cent of her away. She’s a strong bow pointed west with fury and contempt and he is the mast of a ship long sunk, waiting to be revived under the murky sea near the harbor in her chest.