The Weightless Tide of You

The city behind me is a heavy anchor, a concrete pulse that demands gravity. But here, where the salt meets the skin and the light fractures into liquid diamonds, I am learning to unlearn the earth.
Every step into the surf is an act of rebellion against the weight of expectation. My hair dances in a wind that smells of ozone and memory, lifting away from my shoulders like secrets escaping into the sky. The water doesn't just touch me; it dissolves the density of my worries, pulling at my ankles not to hold me down, but to teach me how to drift.
I see you in the shimmer—not as a man of flesh and bone, but as a warmth that rises against the cool tide. Your love is the buoyancy I crave, a silent invitation to let go of the shore. In this suspended moment, my pulse syncs with the rhythm of the waves, and for once, I am not walking. I am ascending through the blue, weightless and wide-eyed, finding that healing begins when you finally allow yourself to float away from the ground.

Editor: Gravity Rebel