I stand at your foreign shore,
alone. I am stubborn and unmoving,
set in my own ways,
forgetting what it’s like to swim.
I watch, motionless, as your tide envelopes me,
sinking my toes further into the embankment.
Your eyes blue like a stormy sky,
the smell of the crook of your neck
is hot sand, earthy, and,
finally, I melt, as your saltwater kiss
find my lips, your caress a warm breeze,
and your body just as inviting.
I surf your waves, rising high,
cresting, sure and certain of their destination,
all leading to the same place.
I fall, hard, into your shore,
tumbling, beached, and broken,
as your waves crash around me.
Then, suddenly, your tide pulling away,
returning to the sea,
to a place I don’t belong, or can follow,
taking a piece of me I can never get back.
I’m soaked with these memories but
a little crushed
by the fact your smell still lingers in my bed,
but you’re not here.
Stunned by where this life had led,
unfamiliar with what should be known,
as I pick myself back up,
and plant my feet down firmly and,
once again,
I stand, alone.