Salt Line

I traced my past on a chart—

mapped the moments,

left you folded in a dream.

Now, you’re gone.

The present’s never felt this clear.

The world moves for me now.

Love isn’t a problem—

you and I were always

born to die.

As for the future,

you know I keep it real.

There are still ways

to mend this fractured heart.

I used my chart again—

no more liberties taken,

no more stolen parts of me.