Running Around On A Beach In Winter

The coastline is forever shifting.
Tomorrow is will be different once again.
Nothing will be left to show
we were here, how we danced, laughed, lived. And died.

Remember: the wind whipped; dressed in leather it was,
barking orders to us that we
chose to ignore. We turned our backs,
leant toward each other to stay warm and
accepted each others’ hot breath into
lungs burning with the cold.

Laughter snatched from lips and carried
to distant lands where it would never be understood. The bottom of our clothes
dragging through the salt. White crusts on hems.
Our eyes black pits; our skin red raw
like the plucked turkey skin from the days just gone.


One year on, our tears are the only evidence that we ever existed.