Satin footprints and broken picture frames

Your fingertips burned as they traced pulsing flames into my eyelids, connecting the dots with the magnolia inflections of cloudy words.  Your palm etched unnamed constellations  into my cheekbones, constellations the colour of dissolving foam caps.

  Phrases painted in indigo raindrops of indifference and torn shredded words, the color of coral rang in my ears, long after I had fallen asleep on the phone.
      Back when we didn't need a reason to talk - when the threads of red and blues and neon greens were reinforced by our easy movement and gravitation towards each other like silver lined musky wings are pulled towards light- a deadly instinct.

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The promises were a constant in our footprints beside each other on the beach, when the calluses of two months on horseback and the broken toenails of soccer could hide in our imprints gracefully shattering the unity of beige powder.

            Two halves of a picture frame, side by side - and without looking at the tiny fragmented pictures, in isolation even the waves coming to rinse away our marks would be convinced that we were the same. Two girls, but the same- two halves of a whole.
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      The rip tide singing trilled in my ears as we waded into the shelter of sea foam caps that set you free, and brought me home. Staying together as the sea foam seeped up my thigh and clung to my skin, trying to pull me back with it into the pounding surf.
            You listened for the ordinary sounds defining breaking rollers as they chanted war cries while their swells cracked and broke upon sand dunes.

            I heard the waves keening  sea shell painted grief and the ink stains of sound of young waves whose innocence never existed.
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    You longed to feel the epitome beat of  ocean that picked you up and carried you- unwilling to take you but it crawled through my veins, muting and washing away my pain.
      You wanted to be a part of tomorrow's ocean although I knew in my core that the spirit of the waves trying to jump onto the back of windy wings and fly, would always be the same- even as the constantly changing ocean twirled and twisted in the sanguine throes of a glittery dance.
     
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    The museum secrets of receding cerulean dominos that were losing ground faster than their ability to fracture ethereal waves on unforgiving sand. You wanted to belong to the constantly moving liquid as it  pumped salt water crumbling tears through my ethanol veins.
   
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    You dunked under the white water surf, a salute to the tatters of angel's halos- and as you came up streaming water contempt glittered in your eyes of broken stars because my eyes breathed tornados of torn songs and brush fire when I watched the boiling rollers. Unable to bear being too close to the reaching foam glass because I longed to be out there, to wrap myself in the peace of belonging and permanently gluing my jagged soul back together.

      I'd stand by you as you reveled in the oncoming rollers laced with adrenaline rush as they were about to die an incoming death but you shook your head at me, as I longed for the waves even as I was terrified.

Although you accepted the way I breathed in receding tides of fear as you dove under waves that would never touch you because I was watching you- you were superior in your bravery, feeling right although my tornados were half size in your sepia vision.
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              I wonder if the not wanting to stay with me translated to the way you don't seem to hear me anymore.  I wonder if that's how you stopped trying to see beyond the gauze bandages on top of my eyes, keeping everyone else out. Is that how my other half became a fraction of me, and I was left with dusty jagged half?

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        Once our footprints were the rythmn for an unbreakable bond- of reading in between the lines into shooting star words and the facets of beautiful shards of broken glass being put back together because together we were complete.

I'm afraid to say I miss you because I like being not very far off from the truth as I deny- that you're ready to lose us, because I'm not.