Ocean Envy by Nikita Hernandez

She swallows your words
and craves your mouth.
Kiss her salt lips and forget
the peppermint sting of mine.
Chew on seaweed
instead of my tongue.

Forget my fingertips
and fall into her watery embrace.
Taste the salt,
choke on her foamy cum
and don’t fight when she throws
you face down on the shore.
Swallow the sand
and be on your way.
We all know you like to be bullied.

Don’t look back for the words
you meant for me.
The Atlantic will drag them into the open
grave of her mouth,
blow you a kiss
to keep you coming back.

Born and raised as a military brat, or “professional gypsy” as her mom likes to say, Nikita Hernandez grew up in the Deep South drinking sweet tea and plucking pecans from her next door neighbor’s tree. She spends her time accumulating books for her future library, daydreaming, and delusionally hoping for snow in Florida. Her poems have appeared in The Fredericksburg Literary Review, Meat for Tea: The Valley Review, BLACKBERRY: a magazine, and as runner up for the 2013 Peter Meinke Prize For Poetry.