I
Am here,
On this beach,
Restless at rest.
Cinereous sands
Dredge longing memories
Of your rakish, tousled hair,
Where, in fits of ardor, my hands
Would find solace; as urgent kisses
Belied the words that words could not describe.
I drag my fingers through the sand, soaking
With the ocean’s brackish, frigid tears,
And remember your calloused hands,
And how you would brush my cheek.
And the look in your eyes,
Virid as the sea;
Tempestuous,
When you said
You loved
Me.
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