The sky’s the underside of the ocean’s belly,
and for the first time,
I let my breath fill the places
that once were empty
because I remember that I am alive.
You are alive,
as alive as that sky,
which never stops singing clouds
into the emptiness.
are not lovers.
Just the realization
that everything we toss into the sea
will flow back to us.
How pieces of broken, past selves
will grow mold and wrinkle at the edges,
but never lose their shape,
their familiar touch.
give that to me.
I to you.
Running sand between our fingers
as if time is something we can hold
and bind ourselves to.
We are the moment that remains
long after our bodies fade
into that monolithic silence.
So this is how I let you go:
the sky will always hold