Echoes Of The Silent Shore

How can I sever wolf-waves from the selfish sea? I ache to cut the rogue from the relentless flow his crest swelled in high rise on testosterone tide swindles my tease to tame his blue Neptune flame mocking my sun dried bed with unruly despise he rides a white steed in petulant power with the moon I am the passive strand of sand longing for his rhythm oh timpani thunder roll in roll over me my skin awaits taunt of aerated fate I await with serrated silence stranded by him… I await… as inconsequential as an oyster shell without a pearl as a pearl unfulfilled without a knotted strand I am the beach exposed at the lowest ebb my eyes not sand-blind when juicy sun colors him red and fuels his restless quest for honeypot conquests to consummate sunset with supple skies far from home and conjugate with sugar-shores not his own my protests to his stray-sprees lay like loose scree lure-lyrics litter air but die a pale chitter in his ear fruited gripes broken in breakers re-rhymed in pulp summer-sweet to his palate as pale peach wine— whine in the grind of my grain soundproofed by his kiss where is his echo to my thirsty plea of love when he’s the romeo sea and I’m the sand seduced and exist in recline to absorb his homecoming while beach-grass-bending wind whips my voice away from my throatless soul? my resist drowns in liquid grooves of his drum beat spume churned in surf zone our spindrift in bloom -yet echoes of the silent shore echo in me alone