The Ocean My Love

 
My love was an ocean, vast and clear to see far to the ocean floor.

The first to swim was a cute otter, slightly injured from swimming against the tide.
He swam until his injuries were healed, soaking up the healing properties of my tide, and once healed he left to rest on the shore leaving me lonely but not fully alone.

The second to swim was the silver reflection of the moon. We both were amused at how his reflection danced and played in my waves and soon my love poured freely as it once had. The otter watched from the bank as excitement filled our hearts at every moonrise, a thirst growing in his.

A period of time passed and I slowly realized that the passion in the moon's heart was not for me but for the reflection of him I supplied. I soon rolled over, vanquishing his reflection and thus the spirit that holds any solace in my company.

Upon the moon's retreat, the thirsty, jealous otter jumped back in my waters to bath and drink deeply. The relief from loneliness was so great that I paid no attention to the effect the otter's deep gulps had on me. For years we continued on, the greedy otter drinking deeply from my reserve and me eagerly supplying hydration, slowly draining and all the while swooning at the thought of the once sad injured otter that I had helped and had helped me.

Over time, as my waters retreated down the shore, the otter's tummy grew fat a bloated. He grew and grew until he was bigger than I was, taking over half of my love than I had started out with.

One day the bloated otter paused, gazed upon his work in depletion of my reserve, and gave a greedy smile. He then flopped on his back in me, squashing what little of me there was left.

I almost blinked out of existence from this, it took all the strength I had to pool together enough water to grow and nurture the rocks underneath him to shape into sharp spikes. At my command, the jagged rocks ejected the bloated otter from my ocean beds to a faraway land never seen again.

Many rainy seasons have allowed for my waters to refill slowly, though the jagged sharp rocks remain, and most creatures shy from the danger of getting caught up in them. As my waters fill I feel the satisfaction of being almost whole again. I dream of the day someone chooses to brave the rocks and take a swim, but until then, here I will remain, mostly alone though satisfied with the strength I have conjured to fill myself back up and carry on.