Drabble #36 – What worlds she did not break.

Hearken this grove of secrets pulled by the tide, the shore grasps to keep. I’ve glimpsed the shadow of doubt across your face so here, take these words I couldn’t form so they decayed on my tongue and inlayed them gravestones, but we call them teeth. Here, listen to the ripple of my heart being pulled out to sea. Here, listen to the ocean; it will translate my soul better than I. Here, pluck these heartstrings, make a melody of my love and remember it. I coveted the shore and its inability to stop loving the tide, reminiscent of cold hands on my ribs. We swish salt water in our mouths to heal the cuts, don’t you see? It’s love, dissolved in a glass, magical, healing.