I would like to write you a letter. I wish I knew the mailing address to your eyes, but then again I never have, never will I know who those pair of glimmering saltlands belonged to.
The sky was clear and the darkest blue, the first time we met. Acid jazz was playing rather loudly in the background, and you had your arms around me. Purple and yellowish ocean of lights hung still in the air and I felt time moving very slowly. We walk in our own unhurried rhythm, unaffected. It was damp, but warm.
The last time we met the sky was greyish blue. We sat on the back of an open truck under the open sky, in silence. Three hours later we exchanged our first ever glance, words. How long have we known each other, I wondered? Yet it felt like no matter how long; couple years later I would have known you like I have come to know the ocean, conversing with your raging silence, ebb and flow; constant and eternal, ever ephemeral.
How I wish I too have come to love you as I do of the ocean; inexplainable, unquestionable, true.