ocean city justwrite again with pen

You say you feel like you're dissolving while I watch your palms cup handfuls of sand, build them up as if they'll never fall down again. There is air in my clenched fists and its burning my fingertips like the ends of cigarettes, glowing alongside the stars and the moths dressed all in grey throwing themselves back and forth through the light. I tried to teach myself to dance, but my feet were too clumsy to lead each other, so I learned to skip instead, watched you become the wind before you knew your first word, which was "small," which I found ironic, watching you blow on every leaf like it's a dandelion and my wishes coming true because they were the same as yours. Trees grew up to my knees before I knew I was tall, and the bark on my legs found knotholes that you had to touch before you could fly again, the creases on your hands like laugh lines, your toes curved in, smiling. Footsteps approached but they were only a reflection, a lake's surface before the rain comes and the whole world ebbs like a tide, swells like the ocean, ice so far away the air here is steam, but I feel it melting anyway, like my skin did the first time I saw you. In my lungs, there are whole forests growing. The breeze is cooler now, and when the leaves change their colors, I call them my soul.