i.
you were born in the brisk
of july when the sun
always hits so hard,
you almost don’t
want to be warm anymore.
you dreamt of snow and wind
and when you opened your eyes
for the very first time
your mother thought:
ocean.
the beautiful ocean.
ii.
you swim
and i smile
and we laugh
when the clouds cover us.
the salt hits our hair
and we are curly messes
in the middle of something
we know nothing of.
i love it.
i love this.
i love the line of
not knowing where
we could be going,
but feeling like
it could be anywhere.
iii.
i think of your window
back home and
how we never saw
any of the same little pieces.
when i look at the stars,
i think of how you wish on them
with another tongue
and with a head
i could never last in.
i wish i was born differently.
you are beautiful
when the storm comes
and always know
exactly what to say.
i don’t understand it.
iv.
i’m thirsty
and i want to be near you
and you hand me a
glass of water.
i’m leaning my head
against your shoulder.
i don’t want to move.
i can’t let go.
i think of how
easy it could be to
let this all stay
and i could wash away
yesterday.
i could kiss you
until the sun breaks.
the waves keep coming
and you are dozing off
and i am wide awake
because i know the
ocean wants you back
and i am terrified
to let go.
there’ll always be a place
where the water ends.
v.
satellites across the world.
if i close my eyes,
i can feel the waves of your heart
in the beat of the sky.
we don’t have to
be so far,
but we are.
we are. we are.
in another life,
we were neighbours
and you could
knock on my door
no matter the time.
in this life,
the ocean eats us
and we are never
on the same
side of the world.
yet i love you anyways.