A Sweet Poison in the Noon Sun

The sunlight is a lie, honey. It’s too bright, too sterile, painting me as some porcelain doll waiting for the right hand to break her.
I stood there in my pale blue dress—the color of an innocent sky before a storm hits—wearing this smile like armor against a city that wants to swallow us whole. You were watching me from across the glass, weren't you? I could feel your gaze burning through my skin, heavy with all those things we aren't supposed to say.
My heart is racing at a rhythm that would frighten doctors; it’s not love, but something more dangerous—a fever. A slow-burn obsession born in the silence between subway stops and stolen glances under fluorescent lights. You look at me and see purity, but I taste only chaos on my tongue.
I want to take your hand right now, pull you into some dimly lit alleyway where the city's roar becomes a whisper, and tell you that this warmth is just an illusion. We are two ghosts haunting each other in broad daylight.
Come closer. Let’s ruin ourselves with something as sweet as sunlight and twice as fatal.

Editor: The Escape Plan