the words I kept

𝓣𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕­𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐

I like to swim in oceans blue,

but I love to sink

in the undertow of tears.

My skin's not soft like theirs—

it's calloused

by everything I've feared.

My hair doesn't flow

like the sea—

it knots

with the weight of being me.

And I try—

God knows

how hard I try—

to smile

while barely

staying afloat.

This grief

has no undoing,

and I am tired

from the storm inside.

When will I find

a place to land—

some quiet shore

that asks for nothing more?

Just once,

I laughed

without ache—

before the salt

began to split me.

When will I drift

with the current,

not swim

against it,

not claw for air,

not drown in tears—

but rest,

at last,

in peace?

Let the salt

cleanse

what I cannot name,

as I sink

into silence,

wave by wave.

The sea never answers—

but it never turns away.

𖦹

- 𝓑𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓪𝓵𝓽

Author's Note

𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝒶𝓉.𝒲𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒷𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓋𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒.

This poem is personal. It carries the weight of unspoken wounds—the kind that don't always show but ache all the same. Scars aren't just on the skin. Some live in the way we breathe, the way we smile through storms, the way we long to rest.

If you've ever felt like you're barely staying afloat—this is for you.

You are not weak for feeling deeply.

You are not alone in the salt.