Tarnished Tales Of Your Truest Lover // poetry

peculiar

And on the shore,
I can hear a call.
I can smell the salt,
the rough of the sand,
and the peculiarity of it all.

I see you there
on the other edge
of the table, you mind wandering.
I wonder if you think of me at all.

And when you cry,
does the angel on your side
wipe the tear from
the corner of your eye?

And when you smile,
do you always wish
that it lasts for a while?