Be An Ocean

"Let your waves crash down on me and take me away."
—Yellowcard, Ocean Avenue

When I step into the ocean, the water doesn't avoid my feet,
         not even my interestingly long, brown toes that dig deeply into the soothing sand,
                and cling to the moving grit that makes no promises, but feels so loyal.
It doesn't grade me before I open my mouth.
As a matter of fact, it is attracted to me because I am another living thing.
He just moves to greet me, easily,
Feeling my longing for the waters to drown the disappointment of untouched and lonely skin.

I just need a little tenderness.

When I step into the coolness of the water, the ocean rushes up to me.
It doesn't swirl off in the distance, judging me without talking to me,
       checking to see if I'm a "dime piece,"
               or silently retreating to go to the fairer-skinned, thin women with long hair.

The ocean comes to see about me, and rushes to do so.  The ocean accepts my love.

I welcome him, embrace him by inching further out into his body.
Wet fingers reach out to me, and I do my best to quickly drink in the feeling
        of a million drops of water splashing against me.
Strong legs are happily startled, just to feel again, and the water touches the hem of my garment.

I need a healing that only comes from being loved, and maybe the ocean needs a healing, too.

The overspray pops up onto my skirt, turning the orange into a dark red, as if my garment is living and breathing its own sunset and making its slow fade to the darkest night.

I come here because I am human, and everyday my fifth sense of touch
         is left to wonder if she is dead. 

Less compassionate folk believe only certain curves deserve caresses, attention, affection.  They look past you as if you are less than nothing.  Only swaying hips and well done weaves, bottom implants, and small waists can depend on appreciation, depend on physical touch when they want it. Those pushed to the side who don't often make the cut are left to love themselves and justify being ignored because we refuse to conform to a puny fantasy.

My hips and dips and curves say I'm desperate, though my mouth does not. 
People think I should take what I can get because I am not a tiny size.
But, here I stand, strong and whole, enjoying the ocean.

Why are you better than the ocean?  Why do you reject love in search of quick fixes?
You may end up settling because the ocean waves came your way and you jumped out of the water.

Be an ocean.  Accept love when it comes to you.