I turned white on the sand. A touch of hot quickening. We were seventeen, eighteen, awkward snails against the glass of each other. We backed away, your eye a rolling black pearl.
08/20/2004
Author's Note: For Joel, wherever he is
Posted on 08/20/2004Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky
brilliant metaphor, very effective and poignant.
I'm nominating this for POTD
lovely images...very poignant! Welcome to Pathetic...
i can hear the oceanwaves...