she nearly cried
as she turned her back on
the horizon
because something about
the warmth and texture
that she felt
as she sunk into the sand
reminded her of the way
her body lied on his couch
in his arms.

and there was something
about the way the crisp air
brushed over her lips like he did.
because he was like
a long, electric, gust of wind
that kissed her lips so softly.

so, now he remains in her broken mind
snapping the lose threads
and creating a mess
because he knows he has this
nomadic strength over her soul.
and he knows he is her
darkest muse
singing her lullabies
late in the night
about why she didn't live
up to his expectations
leaving bruises on her frail skin.

and now she cries and apologizes
endlessly to a man
who is only in her mind
because he tied her beliefs
around his pale, veiny finger
to convince her that his ways around satan
are the same we must use to
reach heaven.

~t.s.