My tears are the
drops of saltwater,
splashed onto seashells
that wait to be dragged back
into the ocean, but the tide
always fall short.
My cries are the
winds, whistling through
cracks and drowning out
the children's laughter on
the cool summer day.
My fingers are the crustaceans,
roaming the beach, looking for
comfort, but only finding themselves
preyed upon by the enemy.
Her eyes.
Her eyes are the sky,
shifting from dark to light.
Confused, broken, hurt.
Happy, laughable, loving.
Her words.
Her words are the lightening,
striking down; such
beautiful destruction.
And her laugh.
Her laugh is the music
that filters down to the beach
from the pier, just enough to
make you feel like you're home.