Beaches

The beach looks prettier at night. Everything is prettier at night. The sea is calm and the moon wears a necklace of clouds, appreciating herself, pampering herself. The wind comes to me, blowing back my dress and hair, making it a tad bit dramatic, like a movie scene. I start digging. I always thought a beach would make a better graveyard than a forest. I can lay down, listen to the sea, tossing me back and forth, to a new place. I lie down in my grave. Kids shall make sand castles over me and my tombstone shall scream, _come here, look at the sea. It's so pretty. Unburden your troubles over me and go back home, a happy man, a child, a bird._
I wish they had hurried me here in the first place, would have been easier for me. I close my eyes. You hold me tight. A grave feels not creepy with you to hold. I bury my head in your chest. You do not smell like the rain anymore. I fall asleep, you playing with my hair, the moon playing with the stars, the sea playing with the sand, and every rock that reminds me of your eyes, shining in the night sky.