The ocean is soft

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.

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