Sitting on the beach, here lies the sunrise where her heart is kept afloat.

It wasn’t for everyone, she supposed. Though she admits that it is as fleeting yet precious as it has ever been. The vast, massive body of blue hues, a hint of fear arises from the unknown it provokes. At the same time, a fascination with it is never denied. What’s beyond these waters, what it could possibly unravel? The glistening sea, perhaps, calls her, yearning for the places that she must see. These are for her to realize, but another for her to unpack this very dilemma she is facing.

She remembers the summers she experienced. Laughing along with the festivities, out of innocence. Silencing the noises with the beat of their hearts. Against the bonfire is where the secrets are kept close. Here, she is in search of another, in search of a thrill. A permanence of this excitement, that she has to seize, it could be love, but even his heart is out of reach. How does she even begin?

Intoxication is an understatement. It was more of a hallucination, somehow, losing her sense of reality. She won’t ever admit it was a drug, but she agreed she is so dependent on it. So persistent, trying to make reason with its coexistence. She wanted to internalize this is part of this feat, a process that she needs to go through with. And yes, this could be a breach; she must compose herself before she becomes problematic and their hearts turn bleach. Or maybe it already have? Maybe it will be?

“Have fun for a little more, and regret a little less, yes? Being young is supposed to be lax. And isn’t he a pretty thing?”

“You know how things are, I have a whole life to see the world out there, rather than love and–”

“Give yourself a break. These matters are supposed to be short of expectations, are they not?

Enough of these, for now. She could have been grateful for this moment. She learned how to be at peace with the raging waters. Her frustration, her pressure, to propose an image are all lost in the warm breeze. She was hurting, but she learned how to embrace it. Dancing along the melodies in her head despite the quietness of the cold sand. Fixing the screams into hums that relax her soul. The point is never to be sure of the future, but to seek radiance along the crumbs on the road. The people you met, the cats roaming to seek shelter, and the hearty meal with no need for extravagance. All lead to the rightful place, to arrange themselves on a path for her to take.

But how could she not resist, no? Love and summer are very familiar with each other. It was indeed a perfect time. Once upon a time, it was a simple glance, an awkwardness in the territory she was about to enter. Then, between them ended up in flames slowly burning, a newfound confidence within. It was passion, the kind that makes the dying embers return to life. The kind where she once forgot how the delight and happiness felt, then brought her to having the energy of a bullet. Flowers even find themselves on her doorstep despite spring yet to be uncovered. Although she has to remember that even as short as these moments are, that doesn’t make them any less meaningful.

“Oh? You picked these for me?”

“Yes, I hope you liked them.”

Is she being foolish? To hope this summer is certain of a lively bloom?

She could be lying if she did not swallow the truth. He was cute, lovely, and gentle. Should she tell him? Heaven is so close, but she hesitates if such an idea would redefine the waves she is riding. Changing tides and seasons, truly. It could be worse, or it could be better.

Shouldn’t she take that chance? As she recalls the fragments from the seconds they spent together, it felt like a lifetime of minutes turned into hours. The food they eat, the trouble they made, the places they have seen, the conversations they got lost in. It was the first time this persuasion was the indulgence she wanted to drown herself in. He is precisely an adventure that never felt turbulence but merely the freedom she discovered. She asserts that both of them have given a part of each other with the instances they shared and the solace that only they can find.

“He is funny.”

“She is kind.”

“He loves danger.”

“She loves lockets.”

A sight of beauty, she admires, an enigma she has yet to fathom. She was willing to find the answer to his mysteries, though she needed time so she could abide. Music was supposed to be his forte; to a point, being off-key was an endearment. Ineptitude, you insist? Oh, no, dear, he is a masterpiece. The poetry that made sense, the stars that were aligned. She knew he wasn’t a pedestal at a museum, but his grace made him so sure of it. Also, knowing that some moments were supposed to end, but she hated to confess why.

Now, she has yet to poison herself once more to awaken her senses. After all, this could be the invigoration she needs to fully grasp. In one moment, she still insists that cracks in his image are golden streaks. Then, on the other hand, the time she spent with him never needed to conclude. But she could be lying if she did not swallow the truth, indeed. And she could be lying if she refused to see that even this sort of love, one’s skin must need to throb.

“She is lying if she didn’t own, and even for him as well, this comfort they built together could become a reality that they settle, unless they keep their sentiments hidden well.”