Skipping Stones

I ran to the pebbled seaside of my half-forgotten childhood - a land of chipped tea cups and dusty days, pretty pleated dresses and arid trees, where the sky hung heavy and the air smelled of turpentine and candle wax. And I stood and watched as you materialized like some sort of apparition, rising up from the sea-foam peaks (looking like Poseidon amidst the waves). And you were so lost in the rough water, caught up in the tides. 

So I panicked and drank the sea (because that was the only way I knew how to save you). And now I must walk around with the weight of the bluest ocean in my heart.