*silence*

“Can you fall in love twice?”

Tonight, I free fell.

Porcelain skin falls from the clouds to lay gently on the falling water surround by everything but the positive. He dipped his foot in, and it let him. To have someone finally test her waters and leaves ripples of wanting more, was all that the summer sky wanted to lay reflected rays upon. But that was before the leaves lost grasps of their belonging.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

I think I miss you a lot more than I thought.

"What are we?" he asked... The typical answer, I don't know. He liked me; I knew that. I liked him; he knew that. But what were we? We could have held hands right then and there, but the clock face didn't line up. Face it, we could have been the period to each other's sentences, but instead we were the question, left with no answer. And look at us now, both doing our own things. But look at you...becoming the person I was hoping you'd be and it's a painfully beautiful thing to watch. You're maturing and taking care of yourself and doing something with your ambitions but I didn't even have a chance to realign the stars because you became apart of another constellation. I'm Orion and you're the belt the causes me not to breathe, but you don't know that. You're stuck in alignment because that's what a nice man does to his bright and shining star; he respects her. My eyes twinkle a little less because even Orion's Belt is the main focus, yet stays within both alignments; one is just more important than the other.

Oh, the things I would've done for you...

Don't become invested too early on.

White bubbles race towards land, a foundation that seems strong and willing but remains a slippery slope. Foam fingertips brush against tan skin but only for an instant, as if the moon is begging her home. Clear vision reaches the undertow, only to be released with a grasp of air with lost conch and cloud filled waves intertwined. Yet the edge of intimacy still beckons her touch. She yearns for the moon to call a spring tide, when her lips can kiss the salt upon the sand yet neap deep causes her struggle. Girls amble along the shore of her world, having their very flesh feel the earth’s epidermis. Envious waters rumble and quake break surface, but not near enough to reach the beloved. What she thought was tidal waves was only false anger diminished by fret. Caught in the 90 degree angle with her light and source of hope that you would think that everything was right! But the bubbles crawl up the shore and only briskly touch the source of its belonging and yet the land knows none. Brisk waters, try as they might, try to compromise with the moon; every day she tries again and yet again, she is granted only one brisk, soft touch, if even that, and again, the bubbles rise to the edge of intimacy, only to leave some behind to fade. It’s a game of push or pull, sink or swim, yet the sand has no idea the tug it has on the waves.

Had me staying up for nothing

What if I met the right person at the wrong time?