I walk on a carpet made of sand.
A pristine, blue ceiling over my head.

Turbulent waves hug the shoreline.
An embrace entombed in brine.

I look out into the vast, empty horizon.
Not a soul in sight.

An eerie silence engulfs me.
As it screams out in agony.

The crack of a bullet.
It rips through my chest.
And lodges itself into my soul.

I look away from the horizon with a quick turn of my head.

I look down at my feet.
Water, once clear, steadily turns red.

The warm hue of the setting sun
bathed her skin in amber.

As a defiant lock of her flowing hair
Braved the wind and danced across her cheek.

I smiled.

It was all I could do to not reach out and touch her face.
Never before had I yearned for something so simple.

To flow like the breeze.

The tranquil petals of a crimson tulip
met the violent embrace of a ferocious wind.

The wind moved on
as the petals lay in a crimson pool.

Neither the wind nor the flower was to blame.

Beauty died quietly that day.
Not a word uttered. Nothing to say.