They arrive,
carrying the weight of love
that has already been spent,
from rooms where it once burned
and then went cold.
The silence bends to hold them,
soft enough to cradle the ache,
bright enough to bring warmth,
even if it cannot last.
Then they rise,
lighter than before,
leaving only the waterline
that traces the height
where their love once reached.
It remains,
quiet, hollow,
a refuge that no one claims,
a shore pressed by tides
that come and go
until one day, the water
forgets its way back.
