I miss the water lapping at your heels in the middle of summer when the sun was at its peak and you sang me songs until your voice grew hoarse. I’d sink my toes into the sand as your fingers plucked the guitar strings, the melody mimicking the rise and fall of the waves. You’d stare into the distance, your body swaying back and forth with each strum and I’d close my eyes as the heat warmed my skin. You were mine in July.

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   Could almost be song lyrics.

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