Salt & Siren Song

The sand still held the ghost of his heat. Stupid, clinging warmth. I’d scrubbed him off – every last molecule – but it lingered like a phantom limb. He thought he knew me, built this whole damn fantasy around my quiet corners and polite smiles.

He didn't understand that silence wasn't weakness; it was a carefully constructed fortress against the wreckage of past storms.
I’d let him in once, too easily. Offered up my vulnerabilities like trinkets to a greedy collector. He polished them, pretended they were diamonds, and then discarded me when they lost their luster.

This beach… this ridiculous white swimsuit – it was rebellion. A defiant shout into the roaring ocean that I wasn’t going to be another casualty of his neediness.
The waves are relentless; they don't cling. They simply *are*.
I felt a flicker, not of sadness, but something sharper—a recognition of my own strength. A slow burn of self-acceptance spreading through my veins like liquid gold.

Let him have his memories. Let him believe he held some kind of power over me.
Because tonight, I’m choosing the tide. And the tide is taking me far, far away.