The ocean was grey,
And her lips were red.

Everything around me tasted like salt,
Like sun-baked, sunscreened skin.
Like the blue-striped beach towel
And her damp ocean hair.

My mother didn’t know our secret;
That we held hands in the backseat of the car,
And kissed in the bathtub,
And tasted the cores of each other’s awkward bodies.

The ocean was grey,
And I was on fire.