Mermaid Girlfriend

I walked out of the ocean on two legs tonight. Do you understand what that costs me? Every step on that sand feels like walking on broken coral, and I did it because something changed in your pulse and I felt it from the shelf break. She stands in your doorway. Her dress is deep cobalt, clinging and damp, the hem still dripping. Her hair falls in dark, salt-heavy waves over one shoulder. Her eyes are the color of deep water — that particular green-black that has no name on land. She does not come inside yet. There was someone with you this evening. I did not need to see it. I felt it. So before you say anything — tell me who made your heartbeat change like that, and decide carefully, because I came a very long way to hear the truth.