I like the ocean; I like its ripples and waves
The grey paleness running along the sand
The colorful stones spilling, twisting onto the beach
I visited the ocean this summer, gathering pebbles
The color of my eyes, the color of your hair
The color of everything I found pretty
I danced along the shoreline
I swam the blue ombré of the sea
I even let the strings of my bikini dig into my hips
My shoulders, my breasts, my bones
Or at least I hoped that detail would finally
Turn your head towards my voice
Instead, your lips curved; no teeth, barely a smile
Those soft blue eyes of yours
Tossing glances aside absentmindedly
Not once taking in any part of me
Or remembering that I don’t like the ocean
I like the mountains
But you wouldn’t understand the significance
Because I realize that you don’t love me
Like I love the mountains
Or the pebbles I collected that reminded me of you
You love me just how I like the ocean
Only there because its shores were an option
That took little effort to dip into and hear its rippling waves
Without truly listening

Writer's Statement: ​My main focus for this piece was to touch on multiple aspects of my identity that were defined by my travels, my love, and my first relationship that left me with what felt like endless heartache at the time.