Making me beg

Sitting on your lap, looking at the ocean
You hold a drink in one hand, and my swimsuit’s back strap with the other
You gaze, kindly at the sea
Making me beg that it be me

Beg

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If it were up to me

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t smile. I wouldn’t talk much. I’d be sitting by the beach all day, writing, quenching thirst with juice in the other hand. Bare skinned and in a swimsuit, lounging and dipping into the smelting hot golden sand. Letting my skin bake into the brownest that it could possibly get. If it were up to me, I’d have coconut oil in my hair soaking into each strand hungrily. Squinting my eyes and looking up, I’d watch the movement of the sun all day as it glides across the sky from east to west, or up and down… whatever it is that it does. Time would go as slow as it possibly could go. I’d stare into the face of the distant horizon, thoughtless and unafraid. If it were up to me, I’d have an ardent romance and risk it all. I’d just twirl in trance to the staccato echoes of the sea, ’till who knows when, aimlessly.

IfItWereUpToMe

 

Night cloud

Tonight I turn to the stars, faceless,
Turn into night clouds, grey and transparent, rolling over the skies like a mystic.
Tonight I stand atop the hill, slouched like an empty bowl, alone and crazy
like a silent maniac
While thunderstorms cut across
And the grey seas snatch with temper
Angry at me
While I stand mute
Wordless, thoughtless, and unable to make sense
As the world tumbles over and the end nears
Awaiting an answer
From a faceless, coreless, puff of air.

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