I wonder if it’s possible for happiness to stick. Every time a wave hits my shore, it’s shockingly cool licks awaken me and as cold as those waves of laughter may feel, they invigorate, and as they leave, the wind whips and it’s even colder than the waves. And somehow…somehow, in land I feel the drowning happening even more.
I wonder if waves ever take hold of the shore without ripping pieces of it away.
I can’t stare at a blank wall without thinking what beautiful decorations must have lived there in the past.