There is something in the breeze. Something about your scent. Some secret thing that passes, from you to me, like telepathy. It catches in the wind, blows back like sand in our eyes. I can feel it even now, miles apart in distance and certainty apart in moral high grounds.
I loved you when we were children. I loved you in a way I didn’t understand, in a way I still struggle to understand. The electricity of breathing in the same air. You moved, not like water or silk in a light wind, but with the calm purpose of sports figures and politicians. I always had to fake the confidence you were born with. I loved you for it.
If the rain gets any harder, I fear that we’ll be swept to sea. You and me crashing against the waves. Borrow my strength, it is all I have to give, it is all I know to give. Float next to me, I will do the swimming. When we are awash on our own island, I will build for you the life you always wanted. I want you to understand, to feel from me what I feel for you. Returning that feeling has always been for you to decide.