I remember our trips to the ocean.
She photographed the old lighthouses and anything that caught her eye.
We watched the sunset and drank beers living life as now I simply exist.
I remember the peace within those moments.
It’s a twisted bliss I embrace now as I decay slowly.
I still have those photographs although no longer do I have her.
As she moved on and I remain frozen to bleed stories and fill pages.
Handing out cheap laughs and sad lines.
Much like a bartender passing out overpriced cocktails and stale beers.
It’s easy to read my truths but not so easy to pen them anymore.
She always loved the ocean and old lighthouses.
She just never loved me.
Sand Dollar
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