The Buoyancy of a Heart’s Ascent

The city below is a heavy anchor of concrete and steel, dragging at the heels of every soul that breathes within it. But here, suspended between glass and sky, I am learning how to unbind my own mass.

I stand where the water meets the air—a liquid threshold where gravity begins its slow surrender. My skin drinks in the warmth of an afternoon sun that feels less like heat and more like a gentle invitation to rise. Every ripple against my legs is a whispered promise, pulling me toward some unseen zenith.


You are not here with your hands on mine, yet you occupy every cubic inch of this atmosphere. Your memory floats above the skyline, lighter than steam, healing the jagged edges where life tried to ground me too deeply into its routine.

In this emerald suit that hugs my frame like a second skin, I am no longer bound by physics or expectation. My heart beats with an upward velocity—a defiant pulse against the pull of reality. To love you is not a descent; it is the sudden realization that we can simply drift away from the earth until our shadows are lost in the clouds.

Editor: Gravity Rebel