Dark waves crash against a nearby rock,
as I sit and watch the salt litter every inch.
Small droplets find their way to my skin,
and soon paint patterns across my canvas.
One that has not been blank for so long --
instead,
this is not the first time.
My miles of skin crave for your touch,
but you are gone.
I cannot bring myself to forget
how your eyes used to trail my body.
We’d sit by that little waterfall and wait
for the mist to carry its way to us,
leaving us wanting more.
As we sat in our little patch of green,
we would count the stars.
The faint feeling of your finger,
finding its way to my hand --
and a face that never leaves my head.
A nose strong and slightly crooked,
like the tree branches creating a canopy
of leaves above --
hiding us from the moon’s light
and the shadows of the night.
And lips,
moulding perfectly with mine --
like two lone puzzle pieces,
finally finding their home,
amongst the jagged ones
surrounding them.
A time so perfect,
that flowed so nicely --
that I long for again someday,
like the waves in autumn,
striking this rock beside
me.
