Where the Tides

It started with your hand

just that,

a quiet offering

like the first note in a song that won’t leave.

You laughed like someone

who’s been hurt before

but still bets on fireworks.

I didn’t ask why you flinched

when the sky turned red,

or why you watched the horizon

like something might come back.

We were sand-stuck,

skin catching salt and stray light,

bare feet sketching half-promises

in waves that never kept their word.

I told you the ocean always felt like a question.

You said love was the answer

people keep mispronouncing.

I didn’t argue

not with your voice that folded the wind in half.

Then came the shift

not loud, but certain

when your silence grew

roots in my ribs,

and the sea pulled higher

as if it too wanted in.

We didn’t kiss for a long time.

We just leaned in,

close enough to hear

each other’s undone parts.

I don’t believe in soulmates,

but I believe in you,

here,

where even the tide knows to soften.

Where I stop counting endings,

and start trusting what doesn’t ask to be named.

Maybe it’s rare.

Maybe it’s reckless.

But it’s real

this feeling like gravity got jealous

of how you hold me.