Undertow

Desire resurfacing

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I was already sunk,

long‑numb, decades devoured by salt,

when your shadow sliced the surface...

eyes,

breath first,

brine tasting like recognition on my tongue.

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A current older than names

pulled my ribs wide,

letting the sea fold back in.

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Undertow...

no warning, only marrow remembering

the pressure behind sternum

where desire sleeps,

curled small as an embryo,

knowing its own name.

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Blue fracture on blue,

the surface cracking with your gaze.

I drowned upward,

through you,

each inch unwinding in reverse...

the grind, the lock,

skin speaking a language the mouth forgot.

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No preamble,

clothes meaningless;

hands tracing fault lines

where years dissolved in salt

and every scar became a map

of what hunger had always known.

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You rise over me

like tide reclaiming the shore,

and I open.

No resistance.

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Rhythm relearned:

in—deeper—

hold—

out—slower—

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Until the sky above is only blue

and the deep knows my pulse,

still full of brine,

still memorized,

still yours

where thought drowns

and want surfaces

like a relentless undertow

that will never let me forget

the shape of you.

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-UpsilonA