It's easier this way

We'll wait patiently as the tide shifts to the ultrasound of your beating heart. It bleeds through sand covered lots where obligations withhold tired, compassionate tendencies.
Instead, waves crash and your voice shrinks, while sea froth pools across the sand. Their bending refractions paint infant rainbows on your falling eye lash. And as the dust settles from its short fall, so too does a single tear whose significance you have not yet deciphered.
"I love you though, dear friend," said he, as stars of sand skitter across footprints left behind days before. "And through the opportunities missed so often, imply a safeguard of ignorance above every misdeed you hide beneath."

It's easier this way.