He is driftwood in the water out past where you can touch bottom.
He lets me float out away from him and pulls me back gently by the hair. I am staring up at the stars, aware of the vacuum of silence brought by the saltwater in my ears. The ocean is my very own sensory deprivation tank and he is my life preserver. I close my eyes and find the dark. Triggered at will, the kind darkness, not the fearful one. The pressure in my head disappears, the pain in my lungs sets itself free and I am sleeping against the current, blinking softly in red and green. There is nothing here. Nothing at all and it is exactly what I expected to find.
His touch jolts me back into myself. The tension crawls up my skin like nerve endings on fire, bleeding me dry, weighing me down, wearing me out. I want to stay in the water until my hair breaks away and my skin slides easily off my bones, leaving a bleached white representation of what I once was, flesh, blood and heart. Nothing more, nothing less. Memories drawn in the sand to be erased by first reach of a new tide.
The night will hide my secrets and the sea will swallow them whole.
