Fading

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We went to the ocean,
that one tired morning it was too cold to sleep.
Bundled and buttoned, we sat on the sand
we tasted salty spray at the backs of our throats,
the backs of our throats that our tongues almost touched
when we kissed among the frozen shells –
two puffy coats alone on the beach.
We went to the ocean,
last summer, when our lips still smiled.
The world turned as I ran into the waves
laughing at you, too dry to get wet.
But you came in when I begged.
The water was the deepest azure,
and I couldn’t see the bottom.
We went to the ocean,
in October, the day it rained so hard
the whole beach turned to mud.
The water was green; I heard the anger
with which it boiled and churned.
I held your hand tight as the wind whipped:
I didn’t want to blow away.
I went to the ocean,
when the days were getting longer.
The sun was nearly down, and the sand
stained red, felt like cold daggers on my soles.
The tide ebbed, receding over the bottom –
I watched the water drain away
and wondered, awaiting the next sweet swell.





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