Grab my hand and whisk me away under water.
Where no one can see us.
Where waves crash and the orange melts with the pink and the yellow in the sky… signaling its time to swim to shore.
We both stay afloat on our own.
I see his eyes lock with mine as I come up for air, almost sinking moments before.
He watches me.
I paddle around, make faces, splash water, and he just watches me.
He spreads his arms out, pulling me down to the bottom of the water; where the sand meets feet, where I meet my match.
Others find our little hideout in the middle of the sea, and he still notices me.
What am I to him?
A question I don’t bother to ask.
Screw the sea, this is our floor.
This is where it begins.
We dance our way to who is best when it comes to maneuvering around the waves.
Encouraging each other, behave.
This is the way it should be.
Drowned in each other rather than drowned in worries and fables.
He’s reached for the best of me, for so long, waited for the best of me, and I didn’t pull back this time. I’ve finally accepted that he’s all mine.