Between the tides, your name still hums
beneath my tongue—salted, unsung.
Moonlight drifts like plastic boats,
carrying whispers we barely spoke.
I trace the foam, a ghosted script;
each crest erases what we kept.
Yet in the suck of undertow,
your pulse repeats in broken code.
I wade until the horizon folds,
half hoping the sea returns us whole—
but only stars sink with my breath,
and dawn arrives in someone else’s chest.