The Salt of Your Skin

The water is cool against my skin, but the heat of your gaze remains.
I remember the city—the grey concrete, the endless hum of engines, and the weight of expectations pressing on my shoulders like a heavy coat. Then there was you. You didn't offer grand gestures or loud promises. You simply held my hand when the world felt too loud.
Now, here we are. The sun filters through the spray, turning droplets into liquid gold. I bite my lip as I watch you move toward me. My heart beats in a steady rhythm, a quiet pulse of healing.
In this moment, there is no noise. Only the taste of salt on my skin and the warmth of your presence. You are my sanctuary. You are the breath I finally learned to take.

Editor: Pure Linen