Flooded

after nightfall
broken hearts 
clinging to each other
dreaming of a better 
ending for this
fantasy in our heads.

gritty sand 
heaving itself onto the docks
icicle-cold water
just brushing the tips of my boots
knotting itself into 
leaves of a
manuscript that 
no one sees but the 
ocean.

park benches are sinking
quietly into the 
rhapsody of waves that
silence lips as 
they fight for 
understanding instead of appreciating the 
vortex swirling the 
waters, sunset leaving
xanthin-tinged waters
"You can't," they all say, but in their
zeal to forget us, they only make us stronger.

Sprouted from Love to Write's Flooded