the inevitable

*eight

it was a pulling feeling
something like the ocean tugging you closer after the wave had crashed.
toes in the sand with wave after wave,
till only your ankles were the only things above.
the salty air is disgustingly sweet.

it was a pushing notion
something like knowing the waves get too high.
getting sucked in as it falls all around you,
collapsing and struggling to find the air.
Lungs ready to burst,
arms grasping at nothing.

you leave the beach
not wanting to come back any time soon.

refreshing like a cold glass of water,
clearing faster than the clouds on a hot day.

it was a pulling feeling
the way you smiled when I laughed
the way nothing else seemed to matter
but I remember it now
how hard those waves made me stumble
the pain my lungs had to heave
to find the air and recover.

I leave not wanting to go back any time soon.

there's nothing I would rather have
than to dive straight into the water.
my scars tell me otherwise
my lungs are still sore.
time is a strange thing
that drags you in and out of stories,
taking you everywhere you'd never be.

it was a pulling feeling
something I had to resist.