the ocean told me she misses you when i stared into her deep black and blue edgeless being. in confidence she said all the auras that reside in her boundless existence mean less as your distance from her has manageably lengthened, but grown greater nonetheless. she told me each time she beats the already shredded shore, she’s attempting to claw closer to you. the tide pulls back and pushes nearer, but how she yearns for you to just hold her still. she feels the movement inside her of flings and lovers past. she was too big to stay put, too vast for them to hold. she expected them to look inside her, recognize their familiar face in her sparkling reflection, and stay to know her current. they were jealous of her depth, the secrets she could protect. her salt-stung presiding wounds, her mirroring waters, showed them something they’d rather keep searching for. “maybe buried treasure is only special because you don’t know what it is yet” and she swelled, ran dirty, and wrung dry. the ocean motioned me in, with my ear closer to her lips, she told me not to tell you. the grass quivered in agreement, the rocks bowed their heads. disobedience in good faith is honorable, but i turned my back to silence, and felt like you should know. she said her waves curl in the pattern of your hair, your sun makes her shine, and your moon makes her glimmer. i heard her giggle when she talked about you, the sky turned pink when it used to be dark, her waves less jagged, her water became warm. she tells everyone you did this to her. i stepped back to face the storyteller, and i was holding her in my hand, i had my ear in a shell. everything she told me, was something i had whispered about you before.
