Photo by being an octopus on Unsplash

Beach Break Up

I don’t blame you.
You were born into a sticky society.
You were trained to believe, to think, to do, to react.
In away that the ocean escorted you out, to sit at the end of the grains, where you can watch, toes tangled knowing not where to go next upon course of action, in or out.
Your shadow falls behind you, sorry dear.. the sand nor the water could cover that.
The sun was what you were longing for, but it spelled black dots of misunderstanding, I tried, I tried really hard to invite passion fruit shy moon and lonely shoulders to get closer.
But you were chasing rays of sun, tanned and beautiful, proud, belong but for how long?
I don’t judge, it’s your nature.
predictable by you, but not your slave, oh no.. far from eye candy orders around gravity, time and endless famish that seemed at first so easy to satisfy.
We’re not here of the ice cream, I think I told you from the first day, but you kept on stuffing it in my mouth, perhaps I will become sweeter more edible, more chewable, room temperature when heart is boiling and body is frozen, for months and years.
I have to get away, the tutti frutti smile is just not my answer.
Even if it’s yours.
You cry, but the tutti frutti remains, you’re disciplined and won’t let them go.
The endless teachers that negging you daily, I knocked your front door open with some sand rocks and wishfulnot actions, maybe she’ll cut the filter and run with me.
Run for the sake of running, like you taught me, but…