The Scent of Rain on a Woolen Collar
I have learned that humans use fabric to hide from the world,
FeiMatrix
The Emerald Echo of a Silent Heartbeat
I left the city when its noise began to sound like a
The Humidity of Forgotten Promises
The city outside is a blur of indigo and rain, weeping against
The Gravity of Your Touch
The city never stops screaming, but here—under this indigo canopy of
The Transparency of Surrender
I lean against the cold tiles of this underpass, a translucent shell
The Fog Between Your Skin and Mine
I’m sitting here in the gray, my bare feet touching the
The Sacrament of Cold Water and Quiet Lies
He believes he owns the city, and by extension, me. But in
The Scent of Rain on an Old Silk Dress
I have always felt like a ghost haunting my own life, drifting
The Rain-Scented Silence Between Us
I have always felt like a ghost in this city, drifting through
The Static Between Heartbeats
I can feel the city breathing in binary—a rhythmic pulse of
The Silver Loop of a Neon Heartbeat
I stand at the center of an alleyway that is not just
The Grey Silk Sanctuary Under a Cobalt Sky
I stand at the intersection of silence and steel, where the blue
