Salt Line

I was not made for shallow waters.

I was made for the deep —

For the rooms where silence speaks louder than words,

For the ache that lingers in the spine long after goodbye.

I came with open hands,

Not to take —

But to give,

to carry,

to witness.

They saw a body in a room.

I was the storm in its lungs.

I was the memory in the walls.

I was the one who stayed after the applause faded.

I told the truth with my voice

until it trembled.

I stood alone

when the others turned ghost.

Not because I was brave —

but because I didn’t know how to lie about love.

And they thought that made me weak.

But I know now —

It made me immortal.

Let them forget.

Let them whisper.

Let them rewrite.

I was there.

And I will remember.

With full lungs.

With cracked ribs.

With dignity dressed in heartbreak.

And when the curtain falls,

I won’t ask for their applause.

I’ll leave with the music

still echoing

in my name.