Sunrise Over the Pacific Ocean


Your eyes are the color of the sun rising over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of something just a little off, yet tempting enough to hold my attention

Your skin is the color of the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of tricks of the light, that make me squint just to be sure.

Your smile is the color of the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of something I can’t really see because the light is blocking, so I’ll invest in you until it clears away.

Your laugh is the color of the palm trees swaying under the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of a moment where we sway back and forth in delight because only I was listening when you made that joke under your breath.

Your honesty is the color of the seashells shadowed by the palm trees swaying under the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of something I have to dig for, yet once I find it I’ll take it home and keep it in a jar

Your sudden silence is the color of the moon disappearing over the seashells shadowed by the palm trees swaying under the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of an object that goes in and out of sight, leaving me confused and upset, yet still waiting.

Your truth is the color of footprints under the moon disappearing over the seashells shadowed by the palm trees swaying under the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of what once was, and what could have been, and the fact that it is only an imprint of you.

Your absence is the color of the clouds dappling the footprints under the moon disappearing over the seashells shadowed by the palm trees swaying under the mountains towering over the sand that the water washes away as the sun rises over the Pacific Ocean.
The color of a dense mass of what, at first glance, seems beautiful, but is truly empty.

Our story is the color of the sunrise over the Pacific Ocean.
The sand and the water and the mountains and the palm trees and the seashells and the moon and footprints and the clouds all work to create a tapestry, even if the ending leaves me broken.

And I should have known it would leave me broken, but I was so distracted by the sand and the water and the mountains and the palm trees and the seashells and the moon and footprints and the clouds and everything in between, that I forgot that the sun doesn’t rise over the Pacific Ocean. It never did.

And I tricked myself into thinking that our connection would be the one to turn the world around and change the laws of nature.
But what I failed to see was that love does not turn the world around and change the laws of nature, it fits into the beautiful routine of sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset, from east to west, every day until the end of time.

But now I’m left dumbfounded.

So I’ll write this poem over here as I watch the sun set in its place over what could have been,
And you’ll sit over there and watch the sun rise, without a clue that I’m praying that you’re thinking of me.
And the sun will go round, between your eyes and mine.
I watch the sunset, you watch the sunrise.
And the sun only knows if our eyes meet again.
Maybe it will be sunrise, maybe it will be sunset.
But if we do meet at all, let’s hope we’ll be watching the sun rise in the east, and set in the west, the way that love intended it to.

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