The first time I swam in the ocean, its salt water wrapped itself around me and reached into my open wounds like it was trying to become a part of me, some deeper part of me; like it was trying to understand what was beneath the gaping hurt of me. I think your eyes reminded me of the ocean. I think I wanted to swim within you; I think I assumed you would keep your salt to yourself. The first time I let myself under your current, your body wrapped around mine like crashing waves like you were trying to smooth my edges, my shattered edges; like you were trying to make this sea glass body soft and dull. I think your hands reminded me of seaside cliffs. I think I wanted to use you as a balcony for the fall I knew we would take together.
when comparing you to the ocean, Emma Bleker (via firemxtt)
