The Pier

     The wood beneath my feet shakes as violent waves crash against the pier. The water splashing against my legs is bitterly cold, but I stand still, breathing it all in. Breathing you. You are ahead of me, on the horizon, and you are around me as I stand on this pier. You are the storm ahead; a meeting of seas and skies in a furious whirl. The bitter gusts of wind that bite my nose and blow my hair back are from you. The crashing waves and the low whistle of your whirlwinds are your song. The music that tells me to run. “Run” it sings, its melody drowning my thoughts and clouding my reason. “Run to me. Please. I won’t let you fall.”
     So I run. I run down the pier, toward you. My legs are cold and my mind is numb, but I run as fast as they’ll carry me. The salty air stings my tongue as I run at you, singing your song. I take deep breaths of the ocean air as I run, and your smell keeps me going. I long for you to be with me, all around me, everywhere at once, and for it all to be mine. You are still just a storm on the horizon, but the end of the pier grows closer. You need to stop running, I tell myself, but the voice of reason in my head is soon drowned out again by your song, and I’m still running. I don’t want to stop. I want to reach you. So I don’t stop running, even when the pier ends. In fact, when the pier ends, I can’t stop.
     So I jump. I jump, arms flailing and crying your name, begging to be heard by you. I take one final leap at you, dying to reach you, and I can only hope that you won’t let me be swallowed into the depths of the water around you, the ocean of desperation that I created for you. As I fall toward the violent surface I ask you to catch me. It’s my final attempt to be heard by you before I meet the cold, bitter water. “Please. Don’t let me drown.”