the light

soaked in sun

sand through my toes,
and a bright burning breeze,
catching my hair,
and blowing it behind me.

a suffocating happiness,
homey and warm,
different from the excited buzz,
i get from the bright bustling city.

because you're different,
a good yet,
almost intoxicating different.

the kind of different,
that you ache for,
day and night:
in my happiest moments,
and the saddest ones.

the kind of different,
where the ache doesnt really,
ever go away,
even in the moment of it all,
because this reality,
this lovely, ideal, perfect reality,
is one that isn't permanent or set.

it's a reality of a week,
soaked in sun,
And salty waves.

and the next,
back home,
in the dull,
rural droning.