The Weightless Anchor of Skin

The city is a leaden anchor on my heels, yet here, by the moss-slicked stone, I seek to unfasten myself from the earth. My skin bears the cooling kiss of the water—a baptism of silence in an urban tide that never sleeps.
But beneath the damp weight of reality, your name rises like heat from a paving stone. It is an upward pull, a rebellion against the floor beneath my feet. When you touch me, even without hands, I am no longer bound by physics or friction. My breath doesn't settle; it drifts toward the ceiling of my chest, a bird escaping its cage to find your rhythm.
We are two bodies suspended in the amber of this moment, defying the downward drag of time and expectation. In the city’s roar, we found this sanctuary where gravity is merely a suggestion, and love is the only direction that matters—straight up into the light.

Editor: Gravity Rebel