sand squishes between my toes
as ocean waves wash over them,
coming and going.

my thoughts come and go
with them—
i try hard not to
hold on too tight

but i just love the way it feels.

Purple lights would blend
into your skin.
Deeming us eternal.
Deeming us lovely.

Your eyes were shadowed
by the darkening of your hair
laying sweet like silk against your skin.
You were intense.

I would feel you bore into me,
explore me,
i would feel you open every locked case
The entry of my heart with a bloodied warning sign
would be ripped apart.

Your fingers on my waist.
Your fingers holding me tight.
Breathing into me.
Your nose caressing the nape of my neck,
down my back.
Lips kissing me all right.

Salt and sweet I tasted
As your tongue
made me quiver.

You were forbidden
You touched me all over
I was made for you
Moulded for you.
For your hands and tongue to explore.

And i would cry into the night, begging for more.

n.b

Truth be told
I'm terrorised with fear,
Because I'm not about to get a father,
I know I'll get a nightmare.
I don't want to enter the place, again,
Where I wish I could go back to my dreams,
To try to make it all better,
Because the reality will be painfully in front of me
And I'll never be able to make it disappear.

Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.

2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.

3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.

4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.

5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.

6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.

7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.

8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.

9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.

10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.

11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.

12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.

The wind did come.
The clouds like sails, soft on a mild day.
There was no rain.
Onward the clouds sailed.
Thick, to and fro.
The sun upright peeked through.
Slant beams.
The clouds like sails drooped.
Sagging in the distance.
Parting ways they swam.
Creating shapes, more soft ridges.
The clouds men.
Ever more to rejoice.
The birds like currents.
The bluest of oceans.
Below I gaze, light in heart
Watching them sail on