Oceans Apart

Every time I catch glimpses of you, I think of Malibu. I think of the drive from Oxnard to LA, more than 27 miles of scenic beauty. You, trigger that part of my memory. Your rheumy eyes, almost poetic. And every time your eyelids kiss, your eyes glint a little more; as if the breaking waves forgot where the shorelines were and collided against the sky.

I once tried to look you in the eye but my chest felt like it cartwheeled off a cliff. I’m not ready to die so I no longer look you in the eye. And every time I try to say your name, my lips lets out a gush of sigh as if the syllables skydived off my tongue. I’m a natural disaster waiting to happen but you have the stature of a beach house.

So for as long as the Earth stands still, I, cannot destroy you.

Until then, we, are the definition of oceans apart.