R.I.P.Tides

The waves calm and we're left with salt in our eyes and no tears left to cry. But you're still holding my hand.

"Swim."

This time we only make it 3 feet before the tides come back for their revenge.

The seaweed only grabs your ankles, but I love you.
And I follow you into the deep.


I've always wanted to kiss underwater.

But I've been given a direct order to swim. And good girls do what they're told.  So as soon as I can reach your hand I grab it. Not because I love you but because I'm trying to save you. The tide is still pulling and pushing and we have no way of telling which way is up except by letting out bubbles and watching them float. But our oxygen is precious. Hold your breath.

"Swim."

The whirlpool is too much to let us live. And as things grow black all I can feel is your hand in mine and how much I want your lips on mine and how you'll always be mine. I'm thinking about the 6 hour phone calls and the 30 second phone calls and every time we've made eye contact. I'm thinking about all the times we didn't make eye contact.

"Swim."

This time when the waves settle it takes a minute for me to find the surface. My strength is all but gone, because we've come too far to ever go back. I'm looking to blame you. You did this to us. You're the one who created the ocean and I never wanted to go swimming in the first place.

 But I love you, so it's all my fault.

 I'm swimming and you're sinking and I'm screaming.

We touch fingertips. And the waves won't leave us alone long enough for me to kiss you goodbye.




"Y.O.U.'.R.E. MEANS YOU ARE Y.O.U.R. MEANS YOUR."
Esther.