ocean child

[tensionrising]

in and out like the tide, I swept, for two months,
I vascillated until I'd washed you away with the floatsom
from the shore. each day, the sun would warm the waters
of my heart and the darkness of the nighttime brought
only cold and dank emptiness unless you were there, entertwined--
two bodies wrapped in sheets of dark purple and grey like waves--
crashing hard against each other until they reached their
peak and then withdrew in foamy mists back into the depths.

you and I like waves,
back and forth,
in and out dragging bits
and pieces of broken shells
along the sand, erasing
every footprint--filling in the
void of every step along the shore.