Sea change....

[annwfyn.livejournal.com]

I felt different that night, in the foam crested waves, with my hair salted up amidst seaweed and brine.

I felt alive, and I felt like living. I wanted to dance and sing. My heart was beating like a drum, and I was not afraid anymore. I spun around in the waves, and opened my mouth to catch a great choking mouthful of the heavy living water wave.

How could I not be in love that night?

He took me back to the sea. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and spun with me in amidst the white horses. He’s not really from the ocean – not like me – but he followed me there, and kissed me as if he loved me. That’s enough, right? Is it enough?

I loved him then, a little, and then later he made a fire and wrapped me up in a blanket. He kissed my shoulders and told me I tasted of salt.

What is love?

Is it this strange feeling, when you are as fluid as the sea? He touched me, and I twisted like the seaweed on the tide. The tide can pull you towards someone, but they always pull you away again…

Later, I slept for a while, curled up in his arms. My belly was full of vodka and whiskey, and I could still taste sweat and wood smoke on the tip of my tongue.

Half awake, beneath the moonlight, I kissed his hand, and he stirred slightly.

“Don’t wake,” I whispered, and kissed him again. He pulled me closer to him, skin pressed to skin, and I think I loved him then as well.

But is this love?

Beneath the trees, with the sound of the sea singing in my ears, I don’t think it matters anymore…