The Geometry of Silence

Blue is a state of being.
Sunlight: a gold needle sewing my hair into the air, stitching memory to the now.
The pool exhales—a heavy, wet breath of peace against the city's roar.
I am melting into the cotton and the salt on my skin, a drop of gin in a glass of light.
Your name is the shadow dancing on my towel, a ghost-touch I can almost taste between breaths.
Let the world burn beyond these walls; here, time is just a ripple that never reaches the shore.
Healing is not a place. It is this blue.

Editor: The Nameless Poet