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Real Self Care, Life & Poetry

Spruce Babe.

She looked like the shoreline—

The way the sun kissed her skin

The way her beauty was as obvious as nature

The way her curves matched the landscape


I wanted her on film, on my phone, in a frame

As if she was a sunset 


She felt like the shoreline—

I could predict her highs and lows that matched the tides

When my hands grazed hers, 

she was as soft as the shell in my pocket 

Some days a calm breeze, other days a messy storm and either way, 



If you sipped the ocean air, then kissed her,

You’d find she even tasted like the sea

A familiar salty sweet on my tongue


And the sound of her?

A dancing hum like a rolling wave 

That forever flows through my mind


She will always be to me, the shoreline.

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Spruce Babe.