The sea rolled gently against the shore. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, a sigh that never truly faded. The water gleamed in the golden morning light as the sun greeted her with a tender first touch. He warmed her waves, yet never enough to reach the secrets hidden deep within. His love was fleeting, always drifting on. She felt the warmth pull through her surface; a passion never fully realised, impossible to grasp.
Her longing was a quiet call, heard only by the horizon. She wished she could hold on to the sun, but he was a lover who always slipped away into the distance, behind the mountains, to another part of the world. The sea moaned softly. Her waves crashed against the rocks in an attempt to mask her pain; a ritual, a constant dance of yearning and abandonment.
Then came the moon, a silent promise in the darkness. He was different. Calm and patient, his light was soft and cool. With a gentle, quiet pull, he reached the deepest parts of her. She felt him in her tides; her body responded to his desires. It was no sudden storm, no fiery passion like the sun, but a steady, eternal embrace.
His light was not bright, yet it felt close. He was present. She felt him in her depths, his patient glow offering a sense of eternity, a whisper in the night shaping her dreams. The sea replied with a deep sigh, her waves rolling slowly beneath the moon; her love unspoken, yet strong, a love that needed no words.
And so she remained suspended between them: the sun who left her and the moon who held her. Her heart beat to the rhythm of their meetings. She was the sea: longing, moving, forever held in the arms of her lovers.
