the day we met
such a pretty, wild thing: salty locks, a warrior's face, and a tiny waist. i first saw you on a sunny day. white sand and crystal blue waters. in some unknown island i flew to visit, to surf.
i was mesmerized by the shape of your cheekbones before i heard the sound of your name. i thought you were perfect. you stood tall and beautiful, nonchalantly seductive, wielding the perfect adonis belt.
we found each other in the same company that night. the air was cool and salty, the vibes just chill, the place merrily quiet. i looked at you with big, expressive eyes that spoke a thousand words while i just watched you talk.
surfer things: the waves, the weather, the stoke. nature and stuff. i loved your accent. you had gentle, smiley eyes, and i shamelessly feasted on the image of your face.
life gifted me that day. i was ready for scraps of attention and stolen glances, but i was given more. i had your attention. i had your time. i had all that was perfect, and more.
we said goodnight, and i slept with a smile on my face. the sound of your name in my lips. i was hooked. i'd been caught like a wave, ridden by this pretty, wild thing of a man.
sea dreams.
Photo by Yuting Gao from Pexels