My legs dangle from the cliffside, soft against the creeping
border weeds and moss that tangle themselves in disruption
against black, wet rock. Caked in mud, I watch a bright
sky shift and dance in colour, a slow dance with gleaming
eyes and panicked hearts, drawing nearer as the horizon
fades to black. The mountains behind are devoured
by the haze of lilac haar bouncing over the waves
and, as the world disappears, I know all of the things
that make children laugh in the night, feel that stumbling
feeling of breathlessness, hands on your waist catching you
off guard. I hear that quiet melody rolling over the hills,
inching closer to our silence, with words burning
in our throats like bad music. I sway as the water does,
giggling on the stones, and when you reflect me in the dark
I wonder how it is those eyes can teach me all the sea
does to the devout. My hands still shimmer from where
you touched them last, the side you stood on beaming
all the way home. I hold you in my fingers, billowing
and whirling, and we're dancing a dance of our own.