Salt on the Lip, Sun in the Marrow

The horizon bleeds amber into my skin. Salt is a memory of tears I haven't shed yet.

City lights are distant ghosts, humming in the marrow of my bones. Here, time dissolves like foam on sand—a slow erasure. You were there once, or perhaps you are only the warmth left behind by your shadow.

My hair drinks the wind; it tastes of ozone and secrets kept under heavy silk sheets. I am a statue carved from tide-water, waiting for your gaze to turn my stillness into motion.

One touch—just one—and the ocean stops screaming. We are two ships anchored in an invisible harbor, bound by nothing but the weight of what remains unsaid.

Editor: The Nameless Poet