The ocean is soft, I’d never noticed before. The waves crash, the tides claw back, the seagulls shriek, but the ocean is soft
The engine of the last car rumbles into silence, and I’m left with my own footprints, and his next to mines.
The waves are breathing, steady then erratic, a little like the hearts that lean in then apart.
Shadows touch each other, the sun does not die but becomes the moon – round and beaming, a light that is shy, alight
Your fingers cradle, it’s forgotten how to loosen when your fingers lace each other, knit into each other
knuckle on knuckle, the ocean’s soft
the only sounds come from your own chest, and his.
The ocean is breathing
the ocean is breathing
the ocean is breaking.