I offer my heart into your palm—
a knot of muscle and ache,
scarred from every time it broke,
that you stitched back together.

I wanted to say
how it will keep you safe,
that you can live here,
but hearts are unruly things—
too wild to offer as shelter.

Your hands are smooth,
unmarked—
like spring rivers
just beginning to thaw.

You don’t need my hard-won truths,
and this grit I carry
like a second skin.
What you need is a reprieve
from the bite of splinters,
the heat of fire working its way
through your bones.

I stepped back—
tasted salt on my lips,
let the tide drag me away—
the space between us brimming
with air and silence.

I leave a prayer at your feet—
a scattering of shells at low tide,
their pinks and greys glinting
as the water pulls away.
This is all I can give you—
shimmers of hope,
a wish, fragile as foam,
for what lies ahead.

One day,
after the waves have tossed you,
after the surge has pulled you away
farther than your dreams could endure—
you’ll find them—
stones polished smooth,
waiting beneath the waves,
yours to keep.