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The impending sadness of dusk often inclines me to write about you. But when I sit down to write, I find myself comparing you to the metaphors that I have never heard before. I feel as if I 'm over exaggerating or leaving out the details, like the ones you left in imprints of your foot steps on sinking sand, erased by the sea foam, but caught in the frantic photograph of my heart.
If I could write the way I thought; Obsessively and incessantly. I would write about you with maddening hunger to the point of suffocation. I would write with my soul clenched, with the sadness of mine that you know, capturing even the minute details of you in my breathing words, even the ones between the sand and stardust.
And I would write about those beige eyes and sea salt lips of yours. I would write a lot about you, a lot more than you would ever know.
