You Were the Sea, and I Was the Wind

Prose Poetry

Photo by William Farlow on Unsplash

The sea calls to me with each wave meeting the tide, and I stand by the shoreline as the water greets me.

I’m reminded of you, so far away, in the way you washed over me like a force of nature. Your laughter rang in my ears, and your touch relaxed me like nothing else. You were cleansing in a way few things rarely ever are.

But you thought I was the wind — caressing for a moment, only to be gone away with the next gust. I was too fickle for you, just like the summer breeze. I could stir you into a frenzy and then depart as if nothing ever happened.

You were the water standing calm. I was the wind always retreating.

Together, we were the storm brewing on the horizon.

I could have relented, drawn back, but I liked the rush of you.

You could have walked away, but you liked the challenge of me.

The storm would take us both down. We knew this, but we didn’t stop.

It was as if we knew no other way of being — whether that meant we were together or alone.

I would have given you a breath of life, a heady mixture of love and poison, but you decided I wasn’t your kind of intoxication.