The Ocean Breathes Salty

The half-priced shop, half-rated,
hangs our reflections in the window, as if to say
“Two hearts for sale, not meant for one another.”

It’s an old-style shop selling
candy hearts and sugar-snap-somethings,
nothing as bittersweet as us. We’re an
undeniably acquired taste, you must admit,
lacking old-fashioned flair or, well, any flair.

We split a bitter smile, stopping
at the harbor of free-faring people,
and I look to you to see your sweetened sour
expression, a familiar taste to come across
upon your lips.

There’s nothing to say with
the melancholy taste of saltwater taffy
and honest ocean swelling through our throats.
Your eyes, glowing in the sea-swallowed sun,
melt like chocolate.

The tiny corner shop now
hangs a closed sign on its door. You bring me
towards your heart a final time, a honey-coated
embrace that’s never been sweeter.

But I look to the harbor.

The ocean vows to me
a promise of freedom, and
we know the taste of love is too sweet,
that the ocean breathes salty, and breathes in me.