Ocean Light

“Why didn’t I stay?”

You’re gone now, away for dinner, and I’m off on my own. We danced and played and then that was that. Just a moment. Where happenstance met happiness. Perfect timing and perfect rhyming. I didn’t even get your name. I didn’t even get your number. But I—

Eyes close. As you raise your glass, you swirl the wine and watch it glimmer under the low light. A twinkle— Now I’m laying on the floor— in your head watching the stars explode across the pink and neon sky. The sand is wet. The tide rises tickling the soles of my feet.

Something moves quickly across the water and— She touches your arm, “hey, are you there?” And snaps you back to reality. She laughs. The warmth of her hand on top of yours pulls you right back— Sunlight shining through the window bouncing off dewy skin. Your eyes are present, eager and yearning. “You’re beautiful.” Not just looking, regarding. Crisp sheets, no longer neat, flow as bodies glide in sync. And repeat.

“Your back— arches as I stand up to— push my nose against the sheet to see if your scent is still with me. Eyes closed, I weep. “I feel you— Shout, toes curl, as nails grip into thigh cheeks— Lungs full. Air thick. My chest fills with your scent— Fingers swirl round love-stains preserved by the sheets. Delicately tracing them like a warm tongue round a— “How’s the wine taste?” Daylight melts to floodlight. Bedsheets harden to table cloths. Unable to focus on anything other than your finger tracing the rim of the glass.

“What do you think of the wine? Are you going to taste— my whole body tremors then flows. Face down. Spread up. Nose dive. You bite the sheet. I purr. Your hand runs through my hair then grips. Decadent and rich, a feast for a king— You wipe your mouth with a cloth napkin, dragging it across your— rosy cheeks against wet lips. You writhe and moan in a rhythm as fast as my heart beats. The drummer beats til he’s panting. I’m—

“Not really in the mood for wine” you say. Soil your palette after being filled with— water rises. Calves cradled. It’s so clear, I can see my feet.

Putting the wine glass down with a thud. The table rattles— Thighs quiver. Relaxed then taut. Skin jiggles. Bodies grinding and bounce as you slide close to the edge of the— “table is so wobbly. Maybe we should ask for a different one?”

Options? “Is that an option?” A twinkle— You squint and watch the sun rest against the horizon like my head against your collar bone. I draw sweet nothings across your neck with my index finger.

“I should have asked him to stay. I should have asked him to stay.” I think to myself. Face still buried against the sheet. Pillows clutched. Clothing still scattered.

Strip the bed. Sheets bellow and tear into ocean waves— The clear water shimmers, your tide caresses my thighs. The crash of the waves echo as I fly high, as your soul rings when I look into your eyes. And I see you, seeing me, seeing you. For the first time, and the last time, and the first time all again— Was that a twinkle?

Waves crash, misting salt across my brow. The sun’s blinding. You can only watch through spread finger tips. “You have such beautiful hands.” It’s rays ware my lips. Forehead glistening. I plant a kiss and you reward me with glossed lips. I smile then chuckle to myself dampening my laugher against your clavicle.

My sweat becomes your sweat. Your body becomes my body. My pelvis summons yours like a full moon commands the tides. Hips gyrate, gravitate. Souls orbit round in play like a hula hoop. The water hugs me around the waist. And it tells me “you’re safe.”

“I don’t normally do this, I— visit you often usually when you’re trying to focus. And sometimes when you’re not. And sometimes when you’re working out. And sometimes when you’re with your friends. And sometimes when— you coming to see me again?”

“…Again?”

Lens flare. Faces blur. Everything goes white. Vision obscured by the sun’s reign. No longer a twinkle— I hold my breath. Lungs full of your scent— I’m underwater. No air. Only your air. No surface in sight. But… it’s lovely here. And the water’s so clear, I—

“Have to go…”

You’re gone now, away for dinner, and I’m off on my own. We danced and played and then that was that. Just a moment. Where happenstance met happiness. Perfect timing and perfect rhyming. I didn’t even get your name. I didn’t even get your number. But I—

Want to fall into your waves. And shower you in iridescent light. Piercing the surface. Warm ripples tug and pull at my rays making them dance and sway in crystal clear tides.

“Why didn’t I stay?”
The sunset was beautiful.
“I should have asked him to stay.”
The water was so lovely, I—
Why didn’t we stay?
I guess it’s just complicated.
The oasis was ours for just a few moments.

Paradise was found that day
and we’ll never let go of it.