Editor's Note: The lack of capitalization is intentional. Enjoy!
the crest of her lips
is the tide by which
you fall. gulls sing
your praise as you
reach, fingers grasping,
for a love never there.
you dash yourself on her
rocks. worn cold, bloody as
you are, you are helpless to
the curve of her claws as they
dig heartbreak into the already
empty chasm of your chest.
the sand is cold and strewn with
the bodies of others you thought you
could outlast. you ache, nevertheless,
for the gentle red of her legs stretched
around you, the quiet hum of her heart.
you taste sand, and it tastes like her.
she is eternal, like the ocean,
and every bit as beautiful,