The sea knows every wound by name,
each grief stitched deep beneath its skin.
Black waves drag moonlit sorrow out,
then bury it where storms begin.
The tide unravels what I was,
pulling old ghosts from bone and breath.
Upon the shore of broken things,
I leave my offerings to death.
By dawn, the water smooths the scars,
and though the ache still haunts the deep,
the ocean keeps what I can't bear
and lulls my darkness into sleep.