I woke to the beat of your heart, thrumming beneath my ear. It turned over with the tide, rolling in, rolling out. In, out, in, out, in, out. Somehow, my breath did the same, learning the rhythm of the world from the pace you set, and I lost myself in your tides. There was peace to the world in those moments. All the fear, the failure, the burdens, they all vanished, carried out into the wild sea. For an eternity, I was safer than I had been in moons.
Then you opened your eyes, and the life left me.
You were a picture of the sea, silver in the morning mist, your bright eyes slicing through the haze like miniature suns. I wanted to burn away under your gaze, to vanish on the breeze before you could catch proper sight of me, and the closest I could come to that was to streak down the shore and pray.
The ocean didn't take me, like it had before. Any claim it once held over me was lost, and the sea foam wreathed around my paws. The froth bubbled up and receded, unconcerned with my plight. It wanted to be free, just as I did, except it could be. Meanwhile, I was trapped. You were at my back, and the sea loomed before me, each more intimidating than the last. I could not cross the ocean again, and I could not meet your gaze, nor your sea-bound heart as it carved its way into your face.
So I turned, and I ran, and like the sea foam, I left you behind.