Swimming in grief

I swim in the weight of what once was, where your laughter rippled like sunlight on waves. Now the tide pulls heavy, a silent hush, as grief drags deep into shadowed caves. Your touch—once the shore I reached with ease— is now a ghost in the ebb and flow. The water whispers in mournful pleas, carrying echoes, I dare not let go. Each stroke I take is a fight with time, against currents carved in sorrow’s tide. Yet love still lingers, soft, sublime, a beacon that will not subside. Though lost in the depths of what we were, I swim to keep your memory near. Love does not drown—it shifts, it stirs, a tide that speaks your name so clear.