Walking on the beach with sand between my toes,
My hair whipping wild in the wind,
I looked out into the ocean.
You loved it here,
I remembered,
You told me that the ocean breeze calmed you down.
The waves made your mind whirl.
Which was a good thing you said,
As you smiled at me gently,
Your fingers interlocked around my own,
As you carried on looking at the dark sky,
The only source of light; the twinkling stars.
The thing is,
I didn't like it as much,
The ocean breeze stung my cheeks,
And the waves wrecked havoc in my mind.
But I didn't; and never will tell you that,
Because i knew the beach was one of The few places where you felt free,
And genuinely happy.
What I hadn't known was that it was also the one that was going to take you away from me.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To You
Short StorySaudade (n.) a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something or someone, Often accompanied with a denied fact that what one longs for will never come back.
