The Physics of Floating Skin

The ocean is not pulling me down; it is holding up the weight of my history. Here, in this pink lace armor, I feel lighter than air. The sun hits a specific ridge on my collarbone and suddenly, your voice from miles away isn't an audio file anymore—it's heat rising off the water.

They say we are grounded by gravity, tethered to concrete floors and deadlines that drag at our ankles like heavy chains. But as the tide rushes over my knees, I feel myself ascending, unspooling into a ribbon of desire against the blue sky. My body is no longer flesh bound by rules; it is buoyant matter defying logic, floating upward toward you on currents of warm light.

Editor: Gravity Rebel