An Ocean Affair
An Ocean Affair
No one dreams of dying on the beach. At least, not like this. If they do, it is a dream flanked by happy memories: days and nights of salty kisses and footsteps that follow them home to embed grains of reminiscence in the carpet. No one dreams of crimson clumps or wondering whether you'll be able to wriggle free before high tide washes the ability to wonder away.
While I wait for the clock of anima to run out, I'll dream I'm dying elsewhere: in my bed, many years from now, with him curled around me and not a clump of crimson to be found. I'll dream of a life in which I hadn't been so careless, so impulsive, so…deserving of this. I never meant to hurt him. All I wanted was love in my life, and now I don't have love or life. Unless…
The waves lick adoringly and the soft sands cradle me like never before. The ocean seems to whisper "Love you, love you, love you. Come with me to the depths, and we'll dance forever. No one has asked you to dance before, have they? They must have known you were waiting for me."
The crimson clumps look like valentines now.
