Saltwater Antidote for Concrete Hearts

The white walls hum a silence that drowns out the city's scream. Here, time is not currency; it is dust settling on blue domes.

I am stitching my soul back together with sunlight and sea breeze. The dress clings to me like a whispered secret from yesterday—fearless now, unspooling into memory.

He said the world was cold until I found this island of fractured light. We do not speak; we breathe in rhythm with the Aegean tide, two ghosts made flesh by salt and gold.

Editor: The Nameless Poet