The Salt of the Tide, The Stillness of You

The waves do not ask for permission to touch the shore; they simply arrive, dissolve, and retreat. I have learned to live like that. In the city, everything is a pursuit—a race against clocks, a hunger for more. But here, where the water meets the sand, time feels suspended in a pale blue haze.

You stood by the pier earlier, your presence a quiet anchor in my drifting thoughts. We didn't need to speak. To speak is to define, and I am not ready to put labels on this feeling yet. I simply wanted to exist in your orbit, like a planet caught in a gentle gravity.

I bite my lip as the salt air settles on my skin. It is a small, private ritual of self-soothing. My heart beats with a rhythm that isn't mine alone anymore—it carries the echo of your gaze. You are there, yet you are everywhere in the way the light hits the foam.

Love shouldn't be a storm that uproots everything; it should be the tide. It comes in to nourish, and it goes out to rest. I will let you be, and I will let myself be. For now, this shared silence is enough to heal the jagged edges of my day.

Editor: The Tea Room