A collection of small poems (Lo fi beats and rain in the background)

Ocean, or Forest?

It's warm here, the sun is playing and dancing with shadows like the ocean plays with swirling sand and cloudy water underneath my feet.

I hate the ocean

Sure, I've built my fair share of sandcastles. I've let my legs become stuck with grainy dirt and salt, I've let my hair twist and knot into the wind while I pack down wet shells and hear the overwhelming sound of roaring waves and the constant stream of air flowing over the shore.

I think that's what bothers me. I know I'm a control freak

But

The wind doesn't die here, try talking over the cacophony. I dare you.
It's too much like being pulled into forests to "have some fun", my clothes and hair were tugged on then too. I don't remember when I stopped being a child in his eyes. My age certainly didn't indicate a change in my status, so why could he decide?

He was a lot like the ocean, so Thank God there was no salty spray. Just itchy dirt on skin while you tried so hard to ignore the scratch and burn of unwelcome warmth from his lips grazing your ears. His reputation drowned out your words before they even began. If I'm Frank, I don't think I tried that hard. The ocean makes me feel dirty, but it is nothing compared to the feeling you get when you walk up the steps knowing you have a secret you never asked for. The guilt churns becoming a hurricane in your belly, but it doesn't rain where he lives so you sit and watch the sky praying for validation.

It's hard to know why I hate the ocean, I guess it just isn't my thing. I always answer "forest" over "beach" on those personality quizzes. I don't know if that says anything at all about anyone, but I need it to say nothing about me.

I wish my sandcastles were stronger. They crumpled under their own weight and
washed
Washed

Away.

I suppose I will let the water rush over me too, you will never be clean again, anyway.