Eliza

She was the ocean.

Blue waves lapping against a face of sand,

freckles like sea shells,

driftwood brows.

He was the beach.

He was the seaweed tangling, groping her legs,

sea foam frothing from his lips.

He was the gritty sand between her toes

in her hair

clinging to her back

He wanted to suffocate her,

but she refused to drown herself.

She was the tide leaving the shore,

and unlike the ocean,

she was never one to come crawling back.