The Rushing Tides


The water. It crashes over perfectly glazed-over, deep grey sand gently-- striving not to crack the breathtaking surface of reflections.

The sun. It sinks quietly into the majestic purple and nectarine colored sky like silk.

The towel. It rubs against my soaked skin comfortably like a mother’s arms shielding her newborn child.

Our toes. They burrow in the soft, sun-warmed blanket of sand, and yearn to stay there forever; content.

Your fingers. They sift through my long, silky, yet still damp, sun kissed, auburn hair.

My ears. They tingle from the words you just whispered inside of them; a piece of your heart left with me.

Your eyes. Focus strictly but with passion onto that one distinct freckle perfectly placed on the inside of my right eye; you seem to touch it, my face, with invisible limbs. I can feel your thoughts.

Your hand. It touches mine softly, I stroke every wrinkle, every ridge, then it grasps mine. My breathing stops. My heart skips a beat.

Never release.

The tides rush through my veins and flood my heart, mind, and soul.

Then in a blink of an eye the water disappears, and finds its way back to the sea. 


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