As the sun finally sets, and dusk settles in, I write your name in the sand for the 157th time.
For the 157th time, the water rushes forward and laps it up,
as though to remind me that I should just forget you.
I write it again,
And before I finish the last loop, the water pours over again, this time rippling past my ankles in an effort to knock me down.
I sit back, sandy legs, sandy jeans, sandy ass, sandy scraped hands.
It’s too dark to see your name anymore, and I smile.