Her

“There she is,” I think to myself, questioning why we call a body of water a woman. Maybe it’s her vast power, cleansing and destroying everything in her way. Is it her beauty? Or is it the way she reaches up just far enough to coax us another step closer?

The smell of her breath hits my nose before I can fully see her, even though I know I won’t ever see her entirety. Her hair strewn upon the shores, a beckoning call to any who dare set foot in her claimed estate.

My feet lumber down the wooden path, the same steps year in and year out—splintered and genuine, ready for their use once more. They creak and moan, each panel more of a gossip than the last, holding steady with every tread.

What secrets does she hold? Will I ever truly know her again? My feet hit the ground, hot, a reminder of the earth’s great age— worn away by the sands of time.

I can hear her now, her siren song as beautifully seductive as ever. How long has it been, my love? My path to her drawn in the sand, only to be washed away by the pulling of the moon. A calculated risk, secretly escaping to her once more, as I had so many times in the past.

I’m awestruck by her depths, promising treasures to those willing to abandon themselves to know her. Toes gracing over the water, satisfied by the coolness and ease of her touch. I chance another step.

Submerged, no warnings heeded. She grabs my hands and pulls me further, down to her core. She is flawless, tainted only by the addition of man. My body weightless in her arms, trying to grasp every second of nirvana until I’m drowned, loving her.

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