tender
The sun kisses the skyline tenderly, as you did my forehead, punctuating tales of tigers and tea before the lights went out, but the love never did.
The sand ignites with the sky, flickering embers beneath my feet as we walk hand in hand. My thoughts wander, as we do,
gently into the waves, submersing themselves, pushed and pulled by the current, but no less lucid; held tight by the sea.
“How lucky am I?” I whisper to the tide. How lucky that in all these grains of sand, every drop of water in the ocean, your hands are the ones that met mine.
And as our fingers fold around one another, the skull of the sun pours itself below the horizon, caressing my mind for a moment before I emerge from the deep.
The ashes smoulder and settle into forever, while I breathe out a soft farewell and promise them that one day we will be reunited; that one day I, too, will be dust.
But, for now, I have oceans I must swim, storms I must weather, trees I must climb.
For now, I have stories I must hear, sunsets I must see, hands I must hold.
For now, I have a world I must tend to.
© marlopoetry, 2026