How about mine?
The fire crackles like electricity and then pops. The sparks float upwards. In the darkness it’s impossible to distinguish between the sea and the sky. I watch the fire whilst you try to discern the sky. The salt of the wood turns the flames green and then purple before the breeze turns them back lion mane colour. You’re haloed in them, king of the world, before you push up from your knees. I pick up a discarded cap and put it on my head backwards so the ocean breeze can’t tug at my hair. You motion with your chin just an inch, imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t watching like I was. Once we’re behind the sand dunes your hand finds mine and drags me towards the moon. In the silver light this part of the beach is a graveyard. Out of the sand poke whale bones, driftwood, seaweed. Your feet pick us a path towards the old deck and I remember your skin in golden hour, the soft sand over your calves, the freckles that hid when the sun fell. You run fearless across creaking wooden planks until you’re out at sea but still on land. When I reach you, you admit that we didn’t need any more driftwood. I take a breath, before I find your eyes. I try to summon some courage, curse myself and all the longing. I admit that I’d follow you anywhere. The breeze picks up and the pink falls back out of my cheeks. I look to skeletons, empty rib cages full of sand and wonder if it’s a relief to not have to carry around a 400 pound heart anymore.
“Give me another truth.” You say.
I follow you as you sit, legs over the edge so that the waves lap hungry at the bottom of our feet. Your shoulder presses mine, skin a burning warm. You smell like the sea and beer and coconut suncream.
I say, “a whale’s heart is as big as a grand piano but I think mine is making more noise.”
“Give me a lie,” you say.
I point to the dead creatures, say, “What if my chest is as empty as that one?”
You shake your head, a sincere blink of eyelashes, say, “What is your heart saying?”
I say, “It’s more just echolocation.”
Your eyes pull my face up when you say, “oh yeah? And where’s the treasure?”
And you wait until I give up the game, until my lips say,
you, you, you.
Send me an ask, I’ll answer with prose based on what your URL reminds me of.