The constant lapping of the waves let me know I am alive
The sand, rough and cool, my body shivers under the moon
She said to meet her here, but the beach is empty
The sand, sucking the warmth from my heart
Nothing left but chills reverberating against a hollow soul
Somewhere off in the black is a boat
Traveling lonely, only the murmur of its engine filling the air
Moving to some far off port to unload its cargo
Only to take to the sea again – to embrace loneliness
This time it’s Boca, last time Cabo
Small towns to make the hurt seem less
I know she is watching on the sand
Tear rolling down her cheek
But this will be the last beach
No warmth left for the sand to steal
It was never the land or even the sea
I just wanted her to be with, me.
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Author:
TrystanBehm (
Offline) - Published: November 27th, 2018 07:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Lauraš»
Offline)
Comments1
Trys,
I felt the sand,
I felt the cold.
Iāve traveled alone from East to West.
Itās never about the
āland or even the seaā...
Itās all about the one I wanted to hold so dear!
Your poem has awakened the memories of decades ago! I traced my steps from sea to shining sea; unfortunately, I was too late. I missed that boat...so I waited for another!
An excellent write which I enjoyed reading!
~Laura~
Hey Laura,
What a brilliant comment! I believe though, there is only one boat...
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