Amber Echoes in White Linen

Ice cubes clink. A slow percussion of melting time.
The city hums a gray song, but here—gold drips from my glass into the hollow of my chest.
Your gaze is a warm tide pulling me under; I am salt and sugar, dissolving in this white slip of fabric.
A glance. A breath held too long.
We are two ghosts finding skin again beneath a pale sun.

Editor: The Nameless Poet