folds of foam soften distant motion, murmuring its devout devotions, curiosity to be up close, see monotone sky fade into ocean. though it gently pulls, nevertheless longing lies beneath its soft caress to slip away beneath silk tide, to lie beneath soothing waves of outer rest. pulled down below by treacherous tide, succumbed by deep's embrace on all sides, til throat, chest, and every limb compressed, by sea salt, stripped, left as ocean's bride. be but wary, for no contract binds crushing waves from leaving you behind, lest, overcome by sea’s persistent thrum, you are left landlocked, lusting for brine. Originally published in Inkwell Literary Magazine.
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