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.