night-bloomer, Poetry

the innocence, the cleaving, and the rebirth

From night-bloomer:  



  Time to go to the ocean; The waves are calling my name And the ocean spray kisses me in welcome. The sand caresses me, devours me with each step. The water laps at my feet, kissing it's way up my thighs, my fingertips, my lips. The rush of cold water is a shock to… Continue reading Rebirth