I wanted hot brown skin, sweat slithering down my chest, hair frizzing up, out, and everywhere.
To wake up to golden beams trying to fight their way through the cracks in the curtains, the bushes outside rustling and singing with life.
Zero chance of rain.
But then you came, and my future was sent North.
Into the white, the sparse, the dark…
Some would say I should have known then, that you were not meant for me. I should have known you would leave me cold.
But you rolled in on a wave, dripping in gold, mouthful of ash and promises; and all I could see was hope in your eyes.
A hope that every failed dream before you had been worth it, had led me to you.
That I was meant to walk the shore with cold feet, and sleep beneath the sun.
But I was the first piece of gold in your palm, that you had ever mistaken for sand.
