One day at Dauin

So we drifted to the beach,

in our wet shoes,

our drunk eyes,

and soaked with a secret we shared

but did not know of.

The sun rose at our arrival,

a round hello, red and warm.

We lay and turned in the sand,

scrubbing off our guilt and our ties

We twisted our bodies underwater

wringing out the secret

we carried around.

At noon, we ate without talking,

chewing at each other’s eyes,

swallowing our lies.

We watched our shadows

switch sides but remained ours.

We left as the sun sank,

our faces

stained by its redness.

And with wet eyes

and drunk shoes,

you and I drove back home

as our secret drifted in the ocean.