Rip Current


At his touch,

I dive right in.

His fingers brush through

My ginger waves, and she is a

Distant memory,

A boat too far from shore

To make out.

For too long, I’ve known

About her, yet I still play

Dumb, pretending that I’m the

Only one to taste his salty lips,

Or bury myself between the dunes

of his neck and shoulder.


I wish to be airy,

An oblivious seagull,

Only aware of the treats

Leftover by others.

But I know

When the tide rolls in

And the current gets rough,

The weekend getaway ends.

He goes back to his anchor,

And I am left

To drown.


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