Mother always told me that the most important lessons in life come accompanied by saltwater.
I always thought she was carrying a soul too spent and too sullen.
I didn't know how right she was till sometime back, at seventeen.
For it was at seventeen that I was to try through a time where paltry tears- saltwater, was all I could taste, as my world was ripped right out of my ribs, and I experienced my first heartbreak.
I was years too young to search for starfish by the shore, to wish myself an old wives tale cure, all for a classic summer sickness. His sea-foam eyes had plighted me and blighted me. He allowed my knees and ankles to burn in rock salt kisses and promises. I allowed him to sear through my wounds, past and present.
In the end, I almost lost myself to his vastness, and almost drowned in the strength of his currents.
He was far too momentous and I, too infinitesimal.
Summer ended a short-lived romance but romance it was nonetheless. Rock salt senses will always string déjà vu.
You will forever be a memory of how the ocean never was forgiving.