I walk a shoreline of ghosts, where the sea keeps returning what I thought I had lost. The waves scatter fragmentsβ a name, a memory, pale as sea mist; the faint outline of a life I no longer belong to. Everything here is half-remembered, softened by salt and distance, yet still capable of aching. I wander the waterβs edge, gathering nothing, keeping nothing. Some things are meant to remain out beyond the breakers, where the tide can claim them and the living can move on.
I sometimes think shorelines wear ghosts of the past. Not something precise, not something we can hold within reach - only the trace of what we were before the world learned our names.
A life that once was.
I sometimes think shorelines wear ghosts of the past. Not something precise, not something we can hold within reach - only the trace of what we were before the world learned our names.
This is so beautiful and perfect for the prompt! Love, Virg
Thank you, Virg.
I resonate so much with this right now π©Ά thank you for sharing
Thank you for reading! π€π
This is haunting. It gave me chills. Beautiful.
Thank you! π€π
beautiful and relevant poetry
Thank you!