Between the tangledness of legs,
arms and organs pumping
with and prodding on
beaches and blankets
because the warmth
of the Atlantic current
only separates our love
into microcosmic pieces of sand,
built up sea shells of my heart,
I can sense the waves,
wet and crashing as I hold my breathe
suspended beneath green-blue
glass tides and soft seaweed
on the in-betweens of my fingers,
a frozen moment could remain forever
floating within the folds of drenched time
and ***, I'll keep my lungs flooded
with oxygen and my heart beat slowed
and exact because drowning
with you in this deep
isn't the same as drowning at all.