We sit out on the sand,
The fog covers the sky,
And blankets the world,
Like a shield.
The waves nip at our feet,
The water's cold
But I'm warm because you hold my hand,
And I don't think you even realize.
We lay back on the damp sand,
And you brush back my hair,
And leave your fingers there
For a second too long
And I think I've gotten too used to this.
We stand on the dock,
The sun has set,
But I can see your happiness
Even in the dead of night.
The streetlight's on,
The metal is all rusted
And covered in salt,
I.
A small brush of fingers,
Biting your lips to stop a smile,
Choking on the words,
Dancing late under streetlights,
Everything could change with one slip,
Find my waist, feel my heartbeat,
The puzzle's missing a piece,
It's not an important one;
just some small piece in the middle.
It's dark purple, and rough on the edges,
It's under the floorboards,
all frayed, and torn apart;
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