I once knew the boy who fell in love with the ocean,

he never really talked much,

but that was one of the greatest things about him.

See, he wasn't really fond of the chitter chatter,

and I wasn't either,

so we mostly connected over

the sounds of the water,

the way it goes splish then splash,

when it's quiet,

and roars when they crash,

but never too violent.

It was peaceful music to us,

and my ears were thankful,

because the sounds of the ocean

were not crazy loud people.

I enjoyed his company

since it seems he understood me

unlike others who try,

but never succeed,

and when it was time to leave,

we'd wave at the ocean then to each other

already knowing we'll see each other tomorrow.

Soon enough, I would have to say goodbye forever

because my life was taking me very much farther

than this place that had a certain kind of water,

because when I left,

I still saw the same blue color, 

but the sound that it made was much different than the other.

However,

I still chose to listen anyways

because I knew this boy was watching the same exact waves

and it was like we were communicating through the currents,

and the splishes and splashes were speaking to me,

but I knew that they weren't

and it's okay because I still admired the view,

and looking pass the horizon,

knowing that the boy was doing

the same thing too.