I found you sleeping on the sand. Castaway in a stormy sea. Now at this moment, I find you again. Shall I offer you a hologram rose?
And I did, but you scattered its petals in the waves. Never give a girl a wild rose. What happened? "I don't know," you said. Love is a dissipative structure. Never give a girl a wild rose. I think it was Aldous Huxley who said it. Their petals fall off. Your neon ghost on the streets. The scent of your perfumed clothes lingers in the crisp autumn air. Tugging at what it could've been. We walked these streets long ago. Where are you? Lost in our soft gazes. The smell of Indian spices, and the sweet promise of kama-sutra dreams.
“We’ll be gods among the stars,” you murmured.
The seafoam washed over your skin and your eyes receded in the ebbing tide.
