Bury Your Fucking Secrets

his name was wanderlust
he told me a story of the ocean
and a girl with shells in her hair
he whispered into my ear
and held me as i shivered.

his hair was choppy,
deep sea blue
and he wore black pearls in his ears.
as he protected me from the chill of the ocean breeze
a warmth grew between us
and a kiss he offered to me.

the brackish taste of his lips
though normally deterrent
entranced me
for he was not a normal boy.
his name was wanderlust.