:::
I really did love you.
Don't forget that.
The little cove
reflected a clear sky.
When my bare feet
touched the water,
the cold sliced into me.
I was riding the back of his motorcycle that day.
We were chasing the sunset
when we found this secret spot.
The initials we carved
into the wet rock
are calling back lost time.
Even if I removed my bracelet now
and buried it in the sand,
the white band of skin around my wrist
wouldn't vanish, now would it?
The initials we carved
that summer, long ago,
glitter as they sway beneath the waves.
I sit on the edge of a boat
from which the colors have faded
from long contact with the sand.
I'm tossing pebbles
at my memories.
Low tide in the glass cove
doesn't last long.
I didn't shed a lot of tears either.
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