The Moon Is A Witness To Our Unsaid Goodbyes

The salt air clings to my skin like a memory I am not yet ready to let go.
I watch the moon hang there—a pale, luminous pearl suspended in an indigo velvet sky—and wonder if it feels as lonely as we do tonight.

Behind me, her silhouette stands at the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea meets nothingness. She is searching for something lost between waves and whispers. I am sitting here, wrapped in a robe that smells of lavender and white wine, trying to anchor myself to this moment before it dissolves into tomorrow's routine.

In our city life, we are always moving so fast that the present becomes a blur—a sequence of screens, deadlines, and fleeting glances. But tonight, time has slowed its pulse. The only sound is the rhythmic sigh of the tide against the rocks and the soft rustle of my hair in the breeze.

I look back at her and feel a pull deeper than gravity. It isn't just longing; it’s a recognition. We are two halves of a story that hasn't found its ending yet, seeking warmth in a world made of cold glass and steel. I want to reach out, to touch the curve of her shoulder or simply hold her hand until our heartbeats sync with the tide.

Let us stay here for just one more minute. Let the moon witness how we heal from the day’s fractures, even if only in silence. Because sometimes, love isn't a grand gesture; it is simply staying still enough to feel each other breathe.

Editor: South Wind