Saltwater Therapy

The city was a cage of concrete and noise, but here, the horizon is an open mouth swallowing my sorrow. The wind doesn't just blow; it unspools the tight knots in my chest.

I close my eyes. His voice isn't there, yet his warmth lingers on my skin like a phantom touch—a memory that refuses to fade into gray static.

The sun is not burning us down; it's melting me open again. We are two halves of a broken mirror finally catching the light.

Editor: The Nameless Poet