A Saccharine Ghost in the Tide

The cotton candy dissolves on my tongue, a fleeting ghost of sweetness that vanishes before I can truly name it. It tastes like summer—the kind that stays in your hair for days but leaves no permanent mark on the soul. They say the ocean heals, yet every wave feels like a slow erasure of who I used to be before we met.
I sit here, a speck of violet amidst the shifting sands, watching the world blur into soft focus. The sun is a heavy gold weight against my skin, almost intimate in its persistence. Somewhere in this crowd of strangers, you are a ghost I keep chasing through my eyelids when I close them at night. Each breath of salt air feels like a letter from you that was never sent.
I smile for the lens, or perhaps for the memory of us, but inside, there is only the quiet ache of a season ending. This beach isn't just sand and water; it’s a graveyard of moments we never got to finish. Let the sugar melt. Let the tide take what it will. For now, I am enough—a girl on a towel, holding onto a sweetness that knows it is destined to disappear into the blue.

Editor: Antique Box