January 1, 2009
It was one of those perfect nights when
the sun was already down, sleeping
In bed, along with most of the world;
And the moon lit the sky painting
That dark nothing into purple fiction;
When the waves crashed and splashed,
Then withdrew back to where they originally came from.

I'd picked her up from her place
Earlier that night. She was wearing
High-heeled shoes and a beautiful
Dress. Her hair shined, reflecting
The moon's spark, in tones of honey,
caramel and toffee. Her pistachio
eyes smooth and tearful, soft and
Shining - as if an aurora
eclipsed her.

She was my girl. My date.
My love. Only nights like those
could one compare to her beyond-
-Human beauty.

The dinner came.
The dinner left.
The waves came.
The waves left.
All had come,
And all had left.

Now, the restaurant, hid in a cave
In the rocks at the Beach, was empty.
The waiters awaited us leaving.
I'd paid the bill.
Beyond our eyes, cheese and wine.
The drink was velvet - in color and
texture - and it begged for one more sip,
The moon, the waves - they begged for one more look. And,
Her lips deserved one more kiss,
And mine craved that kiss even more.

I moved in closer. "Beautiful night,
Isn't it." No reply. "Not as
Beautiful as you..." I'd said
Enough. Her mind were lost,
Her soul diving, swimming, assailed
By the breaking waves. Her eyes,
Her pistachio eyes arrested, detained,
Held captive by the Moon's luminous
Smile, reciprocated by her own radiant smile...

The dinner came.
The dinner left.
The waves came.
The waves left.
The wine was poured,
And easily, it was drank.
All had come,
And all had left.
The love had come,
But eventually it too had left.
She came, gorgeous and radiant -
Bearing one beautiful smile;
But in the moon's reflection, and
In the waves' thunder,
She was lost
and so was love,
so was I.

This is no lie. I stood and left,
And left her there, staring
At the incoming tide...

Never saw her again. My girl.
My date.
My love.
I still wonder
if she's still wondering
still at the raging thunder
And the reflected sun,
In that bluey restaurant,
Where I saw that gloom in her eyes
Which cried for the tender love
That couldn't be given by
Someone as weak and frail as I.

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Alex05 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 25, 2010 at 4:54 pm
wow! its just breath taking.
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