where the air smells of salt and cypress,
and is haunted by conversations past.
I run a hand over the smooth tabletop
where I once left her a message,
then make my way to the stairs.
I find the beach empty,
with the exception of a lone figure—
a figure so familiar, my stomach dives,
seagull-like,
before soaring skyward again.
She is sitting on a driftwood log,
knees pulled to her chest,
wearing the sweatshirt her brother gave her.
I move closer,
studying her as the space between us shrinks.
Her caramel hair hangs loose around her shoulders.
Her eyes are bright, her cheeks rosy-red.
She is biting her lip, distorting her heart-shaped mouth.
Even now,
as an overwhelming sense of loss thickens the air,
as my ears buzz
and my eyes burn
and my knees quake…
She dazzles me.
Since we said goodbye yesterday,
I have been a dandelion seed adrift,
snagged by an errant breeze.
Now, I am rooted.
Rooted in her.
She is not surprised to see me,
