Promises for Keeps

It's not profane,
Lying nude and spent in each other's arms.
We talk of philosophy, the stars, the parasites in the sea--
Great beauty, sadness, myths, and fairytales.
I know sometimes you wonder why I don't respond;
Moving away shaking in my PTSD-Bipolar-Borderline way.
Yet you never directly ask,
And just hold me to your chest,
Cradled in warmth you smile and say:
"Someday my love. Someday it will all be okay."