OBX

i remember you.
i remember the smell of the ocean in your hair.
i remember wondering if the north carolina summer sky
would be jealous of your eyes
if it could have seen you through mine.
i remember how the sand blew lightly
across your copy of Jane Eyre,
as we talked for hours
and the sun burned my knees.
i remember the anticipation,
the child-like shyness
as two people found a part of themselves
in a new face.

i remember walking,
your hand in mine,
as the waves now and again hurried our steps.
i remember you running into the shallow surf
and throwing your arms around me from behind
and kissing the back of my salty, wet t-shirt.

i remember huddling under an abandoned beach house with you
waiting for the rain to end,
hoping it would last a lifetime.
i remember your lips on mine,
the weight of your body as it pressed against mine,
cradling me deeper into the sand,
and the moon and the lights of the pier
shining behind you.

i remember you waving,
and i remember wanting to cry.

i remember thinking i was in love with you.
i still think i was.

but mostly,
i remember you.