i bask in the arctic moon,
its bright light unyielding—
its silver beams flooding the expansive canvas of ragged mountains starch and piercing against the onyx sky.
starless, the raven sweeps over head.
the silence of the snow does not forgive.
the iced air stings my skin, renders my blood to blue
yet i bask, for the chill is enticing,
just like you.

after.

the dawn enters its liminal state, making way for the brightening day. she closes her journal and squints at the rising sunlight winking at her in the waves, beckoning to be conversed with in the last remnants of

the morning.

walking back, she silently promises the shore of her return. the weathered wood is firm beneath her feet, the soft creak of the floorboards the only indication of her presence. at the sight, she

gazes fondly.

for the now risen figure smiles a knowing smile from behind his coffee, and approaches, the scent of pine and lavender enveloping her, settling her mind, and for the second moment that morning, a smile forms upon her lips.

barefoot.

the pallid sand kneads and spills over her toes with each step. the arrhythmic waves ebb up the beach, hissing on their return to the azure ocean, just to rumble and reform, reaching higher up

on the shore, fanning out.

closer now, she is overcome with rapture, she takes a pneumatic moment to let her pores absorb and receive all that the sea has seduced her with. digging her feet into the divine sand and tasting residue of sea salt on

her lips.

after an eternity, she opens her journal, scrawling on the grained pages the ethereal sounds of the swelling, crashing, whistling that fills her ears and stimulates her marrow. indeed is the depth of her ecstasy

she.

rising with the sun, she rubs her eyes and peers gently at the figure beside her, breathing softly and in time with the delicate morning

waves.

her lips curl lightly at the edges from the sight of the watery morning that peaks through the blinds and paints peach-colored lines on his

back.

******* the string to her tea sachet her love steeps throughout her ribs like the flavor of bergamot throughout tea water.
shifting her gaze to the ocean, she basks in the salty aroma wafting in

from the sea.

it sends a breeze, caressing her cheeks, airily lifting her unruly waves, and dancing around her fingers.
a muted chuckle escapes from under her tongue.
misted, cerulean, and undulating, the sea beckons her presence.
she finds no resistance in her heart, so, light as the morning, she scoops up her worn journal and pen, and sets about the open beach.

this silly journal won't stay closed!
i laugh, for even it cannot keep my secrets.
"read me!" it bellows from its ajar, scrawled upon pages.
"look at me!" it beckons from its sprung obtuseness.
"oh stop that" i murmur as i make paltry attempt to bend the spine into secured concealment
of my secrets.