I walk through my apartment, up and down.
The same movements I have been doing for
days,
weeks,
months.

I am my own ghost.

She wants to write about something beautiful,
mountains, the sea, stars in the night sky.
But all that comes to mind is a jawline,
the smell of campfire in his hair,
a tattooed shoulder,
the bump in the middle of his lip.
She can only think about scarred hands,
a line of hair at his navel,
strong arms and soft skin.
No other natural phenomena compares.
She thinks about beauty, she thinks about him.

Yesterday when I was walking along the beachfront and the sun was painting the sky pink with candyfloss clouds as it set, I missed you and I wished you were holding my hand.

Lay on the bed with me
Look at the ceiling in the fading light
Hold my hand
Listen to the music
Hear the sadness leaking through the speaker
Close your eyes
Feel yourself spin
Anchor yourself to me

I won't let you go.

Wood dissolves into nothing
A mountain of ash
Grey wind tomorrow
Heat simmers in the air, shivering
Gather round
Flames flicker
Reaching out for ripe branches
Trees bow at the flames

You touch me
and your hands begin to sow,
the roses grow inside my heart
and whisper your name in the wind
But you do not stay,
to prune them
or water them.
At last they wither,
and only the thorns remain.

Show me the beach again
I have not seen such blue in so long
Take me back to the stones along the ocean floor
Paddle in hand we push ourselves further out
I slide in
Salt water on my tongue, sweat and sea
We lost the footage from the GoPro
But I remember like it were yesterday,
Pale legs below
Swallowed by the seaweed
Fear of fish, of going out too far
But you are there
Frustrated with my antics
Stuck in the boat
You do not want to dive in
But I persuade you
To escape the sun.
The water is warm
Welcoming
You dive deeper than I can
You disappear
Then bob back up
Climb into the boat
And we return to shore.