On this night, when the stars seem to exist
only for the two of us, when they fade
the darkness from our paths, love is just a word
tossed around to rouse all the quiescent rage
of the sea inside you, for my waves have long been
churning and turning their pages for the past
days and nights that linger in memory—silent
walks along streams of consciousness, momentary
grazes of our eyes and skin, the parting of lips
to utter the four-letter word I have always held
back. And it has yet to part my lips, still lost
at sea, for I fear I will make you look pretty
ugly, and you might utter an apology, in five letters
for brevity. So there it keeps tossing against the dark
waters, pleading against the harsh spray of salt.
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