our place

Sun is the best make-up.

I think, as you watch the waves lap matter-of-factly against the multi-coloured, pebbled shore.

I can’t not hug you from behind.

It’s our height differences that bring us together.

You stretch your leg and wiggle your painted toes in the cool salt water.

You can always count on a breeze to rustle a sundress.

You can always count on a sundress.

You snuggle back into my chest and make a swoony sound.

Or maybe it was me.

Seagulls glide overhead. They can recognize a moment when they see one. Circling. Watching from a distance I’d hate to be from you. From this.

The wind catches your hair. I tuck it behind your ear, letting my hand graze your cheek.

We stand quietly. I’m holding you as close as possible.

“Which one are you looking at?” you whisper in a voice that coats me like a warm bath.

I point to the lighthouse on the right.

You try to remember the story I told you about the island. But not too hard. You’re too cozy for memory-searching.

I exhale in your ear and goosebumps chase goosebumps across your soft, smooth, freckling skin.

I rub my big hands up and down your arms.

Then hug again.

A sailboat appears from around behind the tiny island. The breeze has it leaning. Picking up speed. A little. Leaning more. The sailor knows it’s about the journey.

I’ve been there.

It doesn’t compare to here.

I take your flip flops in one hand, and your hand in the other. I help you up on top of the big rock. I climb up and sit behind you.

You lean back.

My arms are around you again. Always.

The sun moves. It reflects differently off the waves.


I’m jealous of the light falling on your face.

I squeeze you a little more.

I want to say so much. I want to tell you just how thankful I am for the impossible confluence of events that led to us finding each other. I want to tell you how impressed I am with your strength and determination. I want to tell you that sometimes I still get shy when you stare at me. I want to tell you that I’ve never wanted anyone more. And that the desire is growing. I want to tell you that I have your back. So fucking much. I want to tell you that I see your “weaknesses” as strengths. That I see your strengths as you. And that I see you as an evolving dream. I want to say louder that I will fight anyone who tries to put you down, keep you down, or make you feel for one second that you’re less than what you actually are. I want to tell you that you can do anything and, softer, that I want to be beside you when you do. I want to tell you that I amazed daily that I get to be yours. I want to tell you I’m proud, excited, determined, protect-y, supportive and, frankly, in awe of you. I want to tell you to hell with what others say, I am putting you on a pedestal. And I am climbing right the hell up there with you. I want to say so much.


“I just…”

“God, me too…”

I kiss you on the shoulder.





photo credit: paul bica via photopin cc

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