Sand

The cold coffee is keeping me company
as I sit watching the waves rolling in.

I am tired of the long nights with
an empty spot accentuated by the cool moon light.

All the heartaches exhausted my fractured mind.
My eye sockets are hollow and brittle
disregard the flirtatious breeze.

I don’t know why I am so chained up
by the past like a submissive slave.
When the master has been long gone,
I keep the pain and torture to preserve
pleasure.

I have been through tubes of smudging mascaras.
Drought became my heart’s desire and daily companion.

My ailing body no longer withstands
the changeable seaside weather.
Fine sand finds its way into
the window of my emptiness.
I cannot tell is it a rock or a precious mineral.

The irritaion imitates the pain to give pleasure.
My eyes well up and my soul returns.