F L a M E S
A short slender stick,
I used to jot down
the word "flames"-
in the sunny sandy shore.
I wrote our names,
crossed out those the same
with excitement and hope
that my counting ended in love.
My cheeks turned to pale;
because it was only a friend,
I tried again then mumbled:
better luck to the next crush.
The high tide came
and washed out all, I left.
Copyright © Maris Warrior Tuazon | Year Posted 2020
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