love is like a wave.
soft. it crumbles. somersaulting. it grumbles.
sea spitting curls of insatiable hunger, ever wanting more
of us. “it was never decided,”
mused the midnight moon, oceans away. and me.
a layer of salt lounged upon those lips
when you read the pages off my face,
sun-faded, worn and creased around the eyes.
life haunts our fading footsteps
on sand eroded from the shells
of syllables lacking words,
and so it crashes on and on and on.
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