Seaside

Sometimes I sit seaside
and think about you.
I think about the warm,
sun-kissed sand clinging to
my skin, and how much
warmer I’d be if it was you
instead of the sand.

Sometimes I sit seaside
and I think about you.
I think about the cool
breeze and how it tangles
my hair, slightly, and how
I’d rather it be you
leaving knots there
instead of my
heart.
Sometimes I sit seaside,
and I think about you.
I think about the smell
of the beach and it always
smells like you, saltwater
and sunscreen, and how
I’d give anything
to keep that scent in
a jar, in a candle,
just so I can be
reminded of you
even when I’m not
seaside.