Glistening waves wash out to sea

only to vanish in the current.

Minute ecosystems inhabit

tide pools, tiny grottoes in the sand.

Sometimes I stroll the shore

indulging the realm of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache held close

to my breast,

a carapace between a heart and the

mountains where I left you.

Give me the freedom to breathe

beneath the tender weight of hands

on eggshell where sighs are gentle

quakes on your unshaven cheek.

Allow me to swim in the river of

your impossible eyes where there

is no threat of war, hard silence,

or the burden of forgiveness.