I run not on earth,
but on blood alone.
By salt,
by sand,
by sea.
I can feel your wake from the other side of the bay,
pulling on me like a riptide.
I am looking at you
and you are looking back,
and the wind carries the smell of thunder and oncoming rain.
The sea things to us both,
but you always come home to me.
You are all kinds of too brave for this,
but I'm in the mood to be terrifying.
"Are you afraid?"
you say.
I don't know what I am,
but its not afraid.
It's everything, if your lucky.
I've got this memory of you,
throwing something foul into the ocean.
A wish,
a curse.
Standing on the white cliffs
looking like a sacrifice.
You told yourself that I would never be your weakness.
Love, its a little late for that.
This land will take you,
if you let it.
There is no such thing as faith, here.
All there is
is me loving you
and the changing of the tides.
The wind has its nimble fingers in your fine,
fair hair,
and the waves crash like applause.
You look absolutely godless.
I love you bloodhungry and harsh.
Striking, predatory,
fever pitched and unknowable.
I love you dead.

God,
I remember when I used to be afraid of the ocean.