i thought of you as my perfect half
who knows?
perhaps you still are

but there have been angry storms
and bitter seas, and tears
as salty as the ocean, and

twice as ferocious, impassioned,
they crash against the sand
amidst desperate, roaring winds:

a cold and battering rush
of all those unspoken words finally
ripping their way out as a hurricane,

and the dark clouds block out the sun,
ruining happy days to aid us as we forget
what that bright, bright warmth felt like between us.

we run to opposite ends of the beach,
duck into shelter, home alone
and aching.

i know your tourists leave bad reviews
with every fleeting visit;
i know you pin me to the wall, a poster, reading:

"would not recommend;
the main course gave me
heartburn that lasted months"

but they forgot, as did you,
of all my weather-warnings,
and the times i told you:

"it's an acquired taste;
you can say no.
i really wish you'd say no."

maybe you still are my
perfect other half
but for this period i'm torn in two.

your whirlpools have cracked my ships,
****** my loving sailors
into sure and certain suffering;

summer is over.
the leaves will fall far more gracefully than us,
and we'll see,

if by winter
we can cocoon ourselves in blankets
and grow into something beautiful as we heal.