we finally bought a house,
it was the one our families rented out for vacation one summer.
that was notable since it was the one we’d hurry to run away from
trail down to the beach and
we made a fire on the sand.
of course we had to set up a tent and
we were back by morning but every now and then we’d look up through the yellow windowsill to see if the lights were on,
just making sure no one noticed we were gone.

through the yellow windowsill
we’d exchange faces while i was in the house
doing the dishes and you’d taunt me
you’d be outside
soaked of your own sweat after skateboarding.
your sweat didn’t stop you from stealing a kiss before you left me alone once again.


through my windowsill though,
the scenery gets darker,
the drizzling rain progressed into windy showers
and it doesn’t feel like i’m here right now.
the oceans waves are at the highest tides now.
crashing.
unforgiving.
seeming almost unstoppable.
i think i need to slow down.
i think fantasy is what i want but reality is what i need
or what we need..

i think i should get my body off the edge of the windowsill.
my imagination is rapid.
help me my love..
my grip is getting slippery..
i’m bound to fall..