The ocean breeze—
Soft yet so harsh.
I wrote your name,
at the back of my palm.
The seagulls sounds like they are screaming your name,
And then I realized that this sorrow seems to have no aim.
I called out your name,
While half of my body is already in the water,
The coarse sand under my feet,
Feels like the bottom of your hairline.
I sank my head underwater,
But all I can taste is my tears.
I don't know what the wave hitting the beach is saying,
because all I heard is your voice.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
The ocean breeze—
Soft yet so harsh.
I wrote your name,
at the back of my palm.
The seagulls sounds like they are screaming your name,
And then I realized that this sorrow seems to have no aim.
I called out your name,
While half of my body is already in the water,
The coarse sand under my feet,
Feels like the bottom of your hairline.
I sank my head underwater,
But all I can taste is my tears.
I don't know what the wave hitting the beach is saying,
because all I heard is your voice.
