The water is so cold against my toes.

But it doesn’t hurt.

My clothes are thick, but not enough.

The fabric felt cool, it didn’t warm me.

I looked up at the moon, for some warmth.

The rays that spilled from it illuminated the waves.

It highlighted the dark curls of my hair,

it even shone over my clothes.

Even still, there was no warmth. Just brightness.

But it doesn’t hurt.

I pull out a polaroid picture from my sweater’s pocket.

My friend and I are standing in front of the Hollywood sign.

Our smiles are big, our eyes our bright.

At least mine are, even as I shift the photo

the moon’s rays obscure my friend.

I bring my legs out of the water and rest my head on my knees.

There are pictures of her all along the shore, I can’t see them.

The big red letters over her picture are distracting.

It might hurt.

I look over and see several men and women. Even some cops.

A few of them of German Shepards sniffing along the shore.

I look away as one of them walks in my direction.

He stops beside me and held out his hand.

The light from the moon put a spotlight on the pink bracelet.

“Is this her’s,” he asked. I feel a heaviness in my eyes.

It hurts.


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