Salt on My Skin, Your Name in My Breath

The sand is a coarse map of every step I’ve taken to get here—away from the neon hum and the suffocating concrete of my daily grind. My skin still carries the ghost of city dust, but as I lie back under this bruised, golden sun, it starts to melt into something softer.
I can feel your gaze like a physical touch, steady and grounding. You didn't say much when you found me here, just handed me a cold drink and sat in silence on the damp sand. That’s the thing about real love; it doesn't need a script or a grand stage. It’s found in the way your shadow overlaps mine, the way you look at me like I’m not just another face in a crowded metro car.
The tide is pulling back, dragging secrets into the deep, leaving only this shimmering heat behind. My heart beats against my ribs—a steady rhythm of 'stay.' I close my eyes and let the warmth seep into my marrow, imagining your hand tracing the line of my shoulder. In this moment, between the roar of the waves and the silence of our breathing, the city feels a thousand miles away. Here, under this vast sky, I am not a cog in a machine or a ghost in an office—I am alive, exposed, and finally home.

Editor: Street-side Poet