The Salt-Wet Hunger of Silence

I stand waist-deep in the electric blue, where the salt water bites at my skin with a sharp, awakening hunger. The sheer white fabric clings to me like a second layer of flesh, translucent and trembling against the wind. It is an ascetic shroud hiding a beast that wants nothing more than to be free from civilization's rigid seams. You are watching from the shore, aren't you? Your eyes trace the curve where my skin meets the waterline, seeking warmth in this cold clarity. I let the tulle billow like a storm cloud around me—a delicate cage of lace and ghostly silk that barely restrains the raw animal inside waiting to be fed by your gaze.

Editor: Leather & Lace