The Sea Inside

Facing the sea that speaks silence,you and me stand close,

counting these waves and inscribing our names on the wet sand.

Vulnerability is something that allures one from within,

Isn't it ? That is why we always choose the sea instead.

You wouldn't listen and I wouldn't say, so the obvious silence mixes with twilights and flies on with the wet breeze that caresses.

I relive myself with the tides. They accept the inevitable at the shore, still they rise, if for once, they can grow and never touch the ground, ever again.

"Don't you know they never can ?" you say.

"Then why do you wait by the sea" , I ask.

With yours and mine, our scribbled names,

that never were etched deep within the sand,

my own optimism rushes them to futility,

another wave and they are gone, abstruse.

What you would never know is, it's not the swells,

its me who disorients the hyphen in between.

Then I let the waves flow,

On

In,

Through,

Over...

... So that you come and I hope, for that evening.

When the hyphen will remain and the waves will never touch the sands.