though they are green, I would carry the ocean in my eyes

I can see the wistful longing in your face.  Your eyes wander to far-off shores, your lips go soft and relaxed beneath mine as you try and taste the salt air.  You miss her.

If I could carry the wind in my teeth, the ocean in my hair, and the sand in my toes, I would drag it home to you.

I would leave it rustling, shivering at the foot of your bed.  And we would poke our fingers in the sand, fishing for crabs; sit in the waves and wash up and down, grit rubbing our skin raw, ocean stinging unforgivingly against any cut, buffeted under a sky too far away to be real.

and the sun shines.  and the waves break, harshly, beautifully, angrily, lovingly,
amazingly
against the shore.  against our bodies.

Toes outstretched, and at our back reality curves and bends into something false, something that is never as good as what is ahead—an ocean at our feet, with the world dropping off behind.