The Shore Poem V2

the way sand scurries between your fingers once you scoop it up gently with your hands, the way the wind kisses that one whisper she exhales at the end of another day. When she arrives, the way his being receives her storm, wild horses on his circuits, warming up the sand he inhabits. Stop. No, continue. Continue crashing into me. The shore poem, same month. A moment before the wave collapses when both of them remain pure potentiality, when none of them want to decide just yet. I let the blanket of his words fall around my shoulders, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and I see him clearly, standing before me, holding the tension of one thousand kisses returned to sender, stopped midway, the deleted kisses. How I am just supposed to stay here pretending I don’t, pretending I don’t remember, pretending I am not impressed.