The Ripples Between Us

The water is a cool sanctuary against the humid weight of city life, but my skin still remembers your touch from just an hour ago. I walk through the turquoise expanse not to swim, but to feel closer to you in this shared silence.

In our world—a frantic blur of glass towers and neon signals—we rarely speak about what lies beneath the surface. We let love exist in the margins: a lingering glance over coffee, a hand brushed against fabric, a secret exchanged in the steam of an evening shower. But here, under this wide sky, I can almost hear your heartbeat syncing with mine.

I smile for no one but my own memories, knowing you are watching from that shaded chair. Every ripple created by my steps is a letter written to you—unspoken invitations into the private theater of our intimacy. The sun kisses my shoulders just as it did when we first met in that crowded train station; a quiet healing for every day spent navigating the noise alone.

I am not just walking through water. I am moving toward us, finding warmth in your absence and depth in what remains unsaid.

Editor: Shadow Lover