There is something haunting and beautiful in the way your body sleeps. The peacefulness that consumes your skin and the hot breath that escapes your ever-simpering mouth serve to disguise the restlessness behind your eyes. Just like the ocean’s surface coyly conceals the ghostly hollow of loneliness below.
But you are not the ocean, love.
You are only the moon’s hushed kisses
scattered upon sempiternal waves,
And the comfortable silence that ensues lips stealing the ends of words from another’s.
And though your sleeping soul desperately persuades me otherwise,
You are not the ocean.