The water pulled us in, cold and unsteady. Still we held the flowers high, keeping them safe from the tide. Drifting in the blue, scattered across the sands. Exhausted yet steady, we endured the salt in our wounds.
When the waves pressed over us, we pushed through the negative.
Lifting what was precious, beyond the storm’s reach.
And though the tide kept rising, we rose with it. Our love carried above the water, a quiet strength refusing to let go.
Evelyn Liao
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