Desperation is sitting on a dune in the starlight.
The ocean is so flat, the waves so muted,
water the temperature of used bathwater.
Swimming here makes my skin crawl.
The grit of sand mixes with spiked lemonade,
drinking to forget your face,
to keep from imagining your kiss on someone else.
Hungry grief is stumbling to bare feet,
smashing empty bottles into tide pools.
Salt water and a drunken, sugar rush.
I fill my cup and indulge in my reckless, shipwreck heart.
