charred hunks of lunkheads dotting the beach,
we tiptoe through the sands, hand in hand,
giggling to ourselves as we look for a nook to cook in.
i nestle into our towel, frilly, weathered,
waiting for you to brace yourself against my chest,
as you pull out a new book to digest.
and in these fleeting moments,
my tired, aching brain takes tiny snapshots,
of your curling toes pressing into the sand,
or of your face when a hermit crab found a new home in your hair
(the snapshot thankfully leaves out the loud “fuck” you shrieked)
or of you pushing your hips up,
so your face synced up with mine,
you gave me a fleeting, yet nourishing kiss on the lips,
and cooed, “life’s so good, here with you.”
the waves used to draw me in, y’know.
the sirens knew how to tempt a broken down soul to the depths.
even now, i still linger every time I dip my toes in the ocean,
and every time, you tug on my arm,
and pull me home.
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