The Buoyancy of Being Held

I let the salt water rise until it kisses my waist, a liquid floor that refuses to hold me down. Here, in this blue suspension, I feel lighter than air. The city behind us is just a heavy memory now, its concrete weight dissolving into foam and mist.

Your gaze anchors me not by pulling me under, but by lifting me up from the depths. It creates a private gravity where we float suspended between breaths. Every drop on my skin feels like a kiss that defies physics, sliding upward instead of down. In this weightless defiance against the sea's pull, I am healed—unburdened and buoyant.

Editor: Gravity Rebel