The last time we spoke, beneath a moon swallowed whole by night—a black orb hung heavy in the sky. Cold whispered beneath our feet, pebbles shifting softly as we walked toward the water’s waiting edge. Darkness wrapped us, a cloak sewn from all the miles we’d traveled, each step a silent testament to the journey that brought us here. Around us, breath and tide held sway—the gentle sigh of waves kissing shore, the murmured dance of rigging ropes, swaying in time with restless waters.

And then—

in the stillness between heartbeats,

our thoughts, like fragile boats,

paused on the horizon.

“These moments don’t last forever,

and nor should they,” you whispered—

and with that,

our last words floated out

to mingle with the night.