It was subtle as the sea's goodbye.
Hence no pain lingers as does the heartbreak of the waves,
For your golden hands slipped softly.
And no longer do I wish to be the girl with salt from the Pacific stitched beneath her skin,
But instead to be forgotten blue.
Though my soles will be rid of the tragedy of you, moving on is not but simple as the roses.
For our roots shall always intertwine with the pieces of our past,
And tongues will speak of our convictions.
But though my eyes may brim with magic,
You are none more than a lonely silhouette
And your body holds no strength than that of shattered glass.
Yet your scream still rattles the cracks in my soul,
The slow burning of a hollow soliloquy.