The smell of coconut reminds me of the time we fucked on the counter of your parent’s beach house,
We had both drank too much, high on the feeling of summer
And the feeling of our sun-kissed skin dancing along each other.
You took me on the counter with no thought other than the need to feel me, pressed between the sink and the sweat of our joined hips,
And I moaned too long and loud for the neighbors to not wonder what trouble we had gotten into this time.
Those summer nights spent making love will always bring a smile to my lips, as well as a gasp of lost breath.
The smell of coconut reminds me of the time you fucked me on the front porch of your parent’s beach house,
We had just stopped arguing over something trivial and too unimportant to be remember all these years later,
You bent me over, covered in the shadow of a dark sky and her limitless stars,
Pulling my hair until all I could see was that endless view of sky and ocean.
And when we had fucked ourselves through, and exhausted all outlets,
We talked about what tomorrow would hold for lovers like us,
I remember waking up in the glow of the sunrise with your body pressed against mine.
The smell of coconut reminds me of you and all the memories we made those precious weeks down the shore.
The farewell of a boy that touched my body and heart among the waves of the ocean,
Leaving as quickly as he appeared within the tides.
The smell of coconut will always bring back memories of sex and you.
And I find I don’t really mind, for I had always been someone who hid from the longing of a memory, the want and desires of a fantasy lived past its days,
So I look back fondly on those memories we made on the beach,
With the scent of coconut lingering on my skin,
Wishing we could have fucked with the sun dancing along our silhouettes,
Under the shade of a coconut tree,
With the waves crashing on only the shore and not our young hearts,
And the sound of our hearts cracking is similar to the ones of the shell of a coconut,
Fallen from the tree it once called home.