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gerald-curtinPoems
The air still wore the haze— a faint shimmer rising from the road. We walked without speaking, your sleeve brushing mine. You said, listen—hear that? and the sea replied, slow and heavy, like breath turning over in sleep. I remember you half-smiling, saying, it smells like old rain. The lights along the pier wobbled in the puddles, each one a small world about to go out. I thought, maybe love’s like that— bright, and then quietly gone. The wind pressed the smell of salt into our coats; our shoes filled with fine wet grit. You stopped, kicked at the edge of the tide, said, I used to come here as a kid. I nodded—you still do, and the water caught your laugh. When you turned to me, your hair was stuck to your cheek, your eyes brighter for all the dark around them. We stood there, not touching. You whispered, I wish morning would wait. I said, it never listens. The sea moved anyway. And then, nothing— only the slow pull out of the tide, the road glistening behind us. You said, let’s walk back, just a bit longer. I remember the sound more than the sight: the sea breathing out, and you saying quietly, it never really stops, does it?
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Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
That Night by the Sea
The air still wore the haze— a faint shimmer rising from the road. We walked without speaking, your sleeve brushing mine. You said, listen—hear that? and the sea replied, slow and heavy, like breath turning over in sleep. I remember you half-smiling, saying, it smells like old rain. The lights along the pier wobbled in the puddles, each one a small world about to go out. I thought, maybe love’s like that— bright, and then quietly gone. The wind pressed the smell of salt into our coats; our shoes filled with fine wet grit. You stopped, kicked at the edge of the tide, said, I used to come here as a kid. I nodded—you still do, and the water caught your laugh. When you turned to me, your hair was stuck to your cheek, your eyes brighter for all the dark around them. We stood there, not touching. You whispered, I wish morning would wait. I said, it never listens. The sea moved anyway. And then, nothing— only the slow pull out of the tide, the road glistening behind us. You said, let’s walk back, just a bit longer. I remember the sound more than the sight: the sea breathing out, and you saying quietly, it never really stops, does it?
#relationships#sea#couples#night#beach#walking
Written by
gerald-curtin
M/Sydney, Australia
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
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