Saltwater Sonnets: A Baptism in Gold

The tide is a pulse against my skin, a rhythmic heartbeat of brine and blue. I am becoming part of the foam—a dissolving ghost in an ocean made of liquid sapphire.
In the city above, our names are etched into glass towers, cold and unyielding under neon rain. But here, beneath this searing crown of sun, time melts like sugar on a tongue.
The water catches my hair; it dances with me—a wild, wet choreography of strands turning to copper in the light. I feel your gaze through the spray: an invisible thread pulling at my chest, anchoring me amidst the churn.
Every wave is a whisper from our shared secret, each droplet a syllable of what we cannot say when streets are crowded and shadows grow long.
I am not fleeing; I am arriving home in every crash against the sand. Let the salt heal the city's dust, let the warmth dissolve my edges until there is no 'me', only this shimmering moment between breath and bubble.

Editor: Lyric