Fifty Seven

Somewhere between satisfaction and complacency, 4 things were lost. That night we drove silently hand in hand, sucking whiskied berries, buzzing through stoplights and as I watched the sides of your lips pucker and swirl, feeling my lungs sink deeper into my ankles - heaving - way back behind my eyelids I cried. I've faked it this whole time. We are here, quietly nude, spitting piles of wet sand both waiting, waiting.