Down by the ocean,
Is where you stand,
As well as I.
Across the terrain of our country,
The sand rests on your feet,
Mine are caught in mire,
Rooting me to my ground.
Sand mesmerises your eyes,
Reminding you of the glimmering snow,
In which we had met,
As opposed as these elements may be
They fit as one,
In our country.
The rebellous hair,
Of both you and I,
It sways in the salty gale of our ties.
The memory of your outline,
Of your thumbs on my lips,
Reaches deeply into my skin, a white heat.
The frigid imprint of my palms,
Etches into your nape.
So be the distance,
So be it.
YOU ARE READING
Essais
Non-FictionA collection of short things I've been writing for the past few years, just a couple of essays from the essence.
