Indulging Conjecture

pink sand pulls away

from a glistening shore,

melting fondant in the

sticky heat.

Minute  ecosystems inhabit

grottoes in their  tide pools

of wet sand.

Some days I stroll the coast alone,

indulging realms of lovers

where there is no logic but

a crushing ache I hold to my breast,

a carapace between a heart and the

mountains where I left you.

Allow me to come undone

beneath the  weight of tender

hands on eggshell,  my sigh a gentle quake       On

unshaven cheek.

Let me   drown in the river of

your impossible eyes where there

is no threat of war…hard silence

or the burden of forgiveness.