to every version of me i've never known - @coinpinned to the me who never made it to shore: the ocean quietly mourns your absence. closely folding around your shape, like it's trying to keep you. everything here hums slow. the clocks melt, the light moves like an untold secret, sometimes i think the world is holding its breath just to listen for your name. to the me who let the sea take him, and the one who stayed too long in the quiet. were you just lonely? or tired of sound? i wish i could ask. but every word i send turns to bubbles before it finds you i hope the waves remember what we meant. i hope they cradle you kindly. and if the current carries you back towards my bones, i'll open my ribs like a door. you can rest there, dripping with old light, and we'll pretend the world never split us. i don't know if it gets easier or if we just get weaker by the day. but i like to think that somewhere out there a version of us is glowing; glimmering just beneath the surface, smiling as the tides wash beneath his feet. and even if there isn't, maybe the feeling is enough. to keep floating, to keep fading, to still be part of the water.
