Listen

I see you where you lie upon your bed. I see you where you sit with friends, drinking...always drinking. I know the dissatisfaction. Something is missing isn't it? Can you blame me for running?

Listen, the crash of the waves upon the shore. Hear me. I am calling your name, I am screaming your anguish to the stars I am channelling the voice within you they don't want to know about. I always wanted to know. I didn't know how to hold you but I would have tried. I don't blame you for not trusting me, I don't blame you for not trying but I blame you for her. Walk away. You know you want to.

This is not a spell. I have never wanted to coerce you into anything you don't want. I speak to the core within you that hungers as I do. You know it is so right, the sweaty tangle, the salty flesh, the perpetual scream of ecstasy. It scared you I know. You were wrong.

If you don't want it, why are you becoming aware of the tattoo of the waves upon the shore? Why are you walking away from the fire, from her? Why are your feet taking you where earth and water meet? Your feet are wet. What else is moistening?

It's hard isn't it? But it's not difficult to walk away.

I used to walk away and dream of you. I had to get my space and wish for the impossible. On the strength of a year of wishing I finally awoke naked, with you inside me. I was about to come. You felt guilty because I had no recollection of how we got there. "I don't remember a thing." I admitted, "But it's fantastic. It's bloody fantastic" then I screamed so loud my kids wondered if you were killing me. I wish I remembered more than that.

You remember the few ecstatic nights don't you? I know I wasn't the only one who wanted it. I tried not to want it more than you. I think that was my big mistake. Figs in the garden and oysters and red wine. You were more than willing.

You were scared though you'd never admit it. And rightly so. My lust and longing if I had unleashed it completely would have swallowed you up like a warm, sticky embrace. But warm and sticky is how you liked it. Then.

I never was good at just friends. I always undressed you with my eyes whenever we met. When you caught me doing it you seemed a little embarrassed but mainly amused. Sometimes you seemed to encourage it.

That body! The best thing about sex with you is you got naked to do it. I could look at that view all day. Even without touching or tasting. But would you want me to stop there?

Why are we wasting time remembering? You know how it ended. I guess you found it somewhere else. I didn't. I couldn't. I thought I would die without it but I was not content to find it somewhere else. Were you happy? Were you ever happy? Was it worth it?

Was she less inhibited, more secure in herself than me? Or did you both just drink even more? Did she put up with your insecurities and petty power games or were you more secure around her.

Don't answer. I am getting bitter like the wind. Let's not go there. You are here for something else.

Feel the warm autumn air caressing your skin. The breeze is gone and it is mellow, tender, like the kisses you forgot to need. Feel it on your face, your lips, your hands. It is my touch, carried to you by the ocean. Yes, it's a hot night still.

You need to undress. You need to feel the gentle current of air all over. Yes, like that, ruffling your chest hair. Why do you hesitate? Noone is here. Take it all off. Do you feel me?

The waves come in lapping against your feet. Moist and caressing.

It wasn't your feet that brought out the moistness in me. (Maybe inches.)

See the rocks softly rise above the swell of the water like breasts in the moonlight. Remember my smooth skin in the starlight and the open window. Remember nipples hardening, welcoming your touch, your mouth.

Yes. Here is a peach, soft and ripe in your hand. Bite into it like the neck of a willing lover. Warm juices flow from the peach - sweet and fragrant. I am the sea, the sky, the peach. There is no fire here. Why are you so hot then? Why do you not feel winter approaching. Lie your naked length down in the moonlight on the soft, silky sand. Silver and glistening in the dim light. You desire. You remember and need. Are you safe to drive?

The waves crash suddenly, white foaming everywhere - oh this is not subtle now is it? But you know what you want. I am the warm earth, the expectant shore. You are the tide, the fickle surf, the pounding beating of a giant heart. Caress my shore, pour over me and trace my shape again. The tide must turn again. The tide must turn.

Away from the fire, a lone figure climbs quietly into his car and drives to a well remembered house. The light is still on in a certain window. As he walks the final steps to his destiny he realises he never wants that light to go out.