So we drifted to the beach,
in our wet shoes,
our drunk eyes,
and soaked with a secret we shared
but did not know of.
The sun rose at our arrival,
a round hello, red and warm.
We lay and turned in the sand,
scrubbing off our guilt and our ties
We twisted our bodies underwater
wringing out the secret
we carried around.
At noon, we ate without talking,
chewing at each other’s eyes,
swallowing our lies.
We watched our shadows
switch sides but remained ours.
We left as the sun sank,
our faces
stained by its redness.
And with wet eyes
and drunk shoes,
you and I drove back home
as our secret drifted in the ocean.
