We went to the beach

Not a figure of speech

There is lots of beech


Pale peach sand

Oh so very grand

Not too bland


It was very hot

The tiny rocks a dot

And people cooked things in a ***


Swim in the sea

Swimming freely

And we talked about… bees?


Today we had fun

Under the sun

But now the day is done.

Your thighs

As golden Caribbean beaches,

And my lips:

Marathoners.

if you think
that you really
know who you are,
it most likely means
that you don't,
your body isnt
the only thing
that ages,
your experiences
grow bigger,
you're like sand
on a beach,
waiting for the wind
to pick your next
residence,
and it's all
too random.

Your ******* remind me of S-curves
on a mountain highway.
Like the curve of the windshield of a Lamborghini.
Like the stick shift of a new Corvette.
Your shoulders remind me of the breaking
of a newly frozen ice cube tray.
They are the tops of the pillars
of your skinny arms.
The flash of your blue bikini
takes my mind away from
your secret face.
Its temperature tells of a moist nose
making a puckered upper lip.
I'm reminded of Cranberries songs.
We should've met with your shirt on.
The rim of your head tells of
a hundred men who would swoon.
No fat on you at all.
Would you even care to look at me
for one more moment?
The roses of your eyes are not yet
in full bloom.
Your blonde highlight tips are like
needles on my skin.
Could I even give a hug
that didn't give away my devotion?

blood rush to my inner thighs
tip brushes
light blue sky behind you
deep blue ocean behind you
three curves tell of your waist
and your navel.
as you stand in this shade
eyes like gray clouds
masking their brown color.
"I don't really want you" she says with a sigh.
"You cannot handle me, why tell a lie."
"Most men only dream of me," with
a Kawasaki Ninja in her eye.
To press against her would sooth my nerves.
Hard or soft its all just fantasy.
Her body's arteries and veins so tightly coiled by her skin.
I'm still here after ******:
untouched and unfelt.
I will always be that picture
written in the story of your life.
She will not let me love her.
She just makes me stare.

Waves cleave the cliffs
The birds ride the wind
The night fills the soul
I cleave to you

The sand polishes the toes
***** tango in the sand
Stars perform ballet in the black
The fire sparks against the stillness

Waves cleave the cliffs
The birds ride the wind
The night fills the soul
I cleave to you

What is over there?
You're going swimming.
Your swimming suit fits well.
Your brow speaks of knowledge
your ear catches my tune
I think of a brush when you pull back your hair.
Too bad these hands are unfit to touch you.
"That's okay Chad, I get it," you whisper half to
yourself.
The weather fills up your gaze
Half looking at me, half looking away.
I enjoy the paleness of your skin.
I notice now the sun on your face,
a dancer's chin.

Equations
in the sand

Laid out
and toweling off

Curvatures to
algebraic form

They define her lines
shape her axis

My island of
expectation

Amid summer's long
subterfuge

Thoughts slipped away like sand
As he stands beside me holding my hand

you built me a castle
beach front- no less
with seashells for doors
and driftwood for a flag
but it was too close to shore
the waves beat it down until
it swept away
and we laughed

this time though,
I drowned