As the water crashes to the sand eye look out wondering where the horizon ends or whether it ends at all. Eye could see the thin line of where my imagination ended. So thin it was covered by all my flaws. Eye sat on the sand so that eye could feel every word and every emotion of the water. You could hear the cry of the waves bashing into your ear drum. The sand felt so cold, yet hot. It sparkled in the moonlight as if the sand were tiny diamonds all poured onto the ground. Eye could feel my skin adapting to the cold wind that drift past me as eye sat. A hand that lay upon mine as eye daydream, a being of which eye soon became familiar. What you call a friend, eye call a Spirit of Gold. The familiar being sits next to me and eye can feel their color fading. Eye can feel their aura vanishing. Feeling their being crumple into one small piece. We lay down, eyes closed, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting. A drop of water attaches itself to the ground. Eye hear the water crash to the sand again, wondering if it's my imagination or the horizon that ended.
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