The Salt-Kissed Suspension

The tide is a rhythmic pulse against my skin, but it is your gaze that pulls me upward into a realm where bone becomes air and breath turns to mist.
I sit here on the edge of the world's exhale, feeling the sand surrender beneath my weight—or rather, the way I wish to lose it. In this city of concrete cages and heavy expectations, you are the only gravity that matters. Your love is not a tether; it is an updraft.
When I bite my lip, tasting the salt of the sea and the sweetness of your name, I am drifting away from the ground. My hair dances like seaweed in a dream, unbound by the laws of friction. We are suspended between the blue horizon and the golden shore—two bodies becoming light, two hearts learning how to float in the hollow of each other's palms.
Let the world sink into its routine. Here, on this stretch of liquid glass, we rise. I am not sitting; I am hovering in the nectar of your attention, healing from a life too heavy to carry alone.

Editor: Gravity Rebel