Sea Salt

The whispers

of phantom skin on 

my sheets, flutters

on lips faded

in the dusty morning

sun. It falls in slants

to match your posture 

as it was.

There, the valley of

your once-stationary body

lie, I want to fill it as a lake,

watch the skies pass

through your form.

To capture you in 

some natural element 

to suit you, 

blue eyed.

I will be your mountain range

ancient anchor to your love.

Sunrise over body,

and indent, the twinned

half of Greek lore,

where the second soul 

lie sleeping still.

I shall gather you

to me, calm waves

you have left

in the tides.

Walk in the sands

of some shore

of your indented body.

Somewhere there

is lingering of your 

voice, faint notes

of the sea,

from the salt of

your skin.