The Scent of Rain on a Paper Heart
I am a ghost in the machinery of this city, drifting through
FeiMatrix
The Neon Pulse of a Paper Heart
I am not entirely sure where the city ends and I begin.
The Silence Between Two Pages
I can hear your heartbeat from three aisles away. Or perhaps it
The Ascending Pulse of a Garden Heartbeat
I am no longer anchored by the concrete sighs of Tokyo or
The Golden Hour Between Us
The city breathes below me in a rhythmic hum of neon and
The Silent Frequency of Belonging
I have always believed that we do not listen to music; rather,
Velvet Breath on Granite Skin
I live in a city that breathes through exhaust vents and speaks
The Sweetness Between Heartbeats
The city hums outside the window, a relentless tide of neon and
High Heels on Concrete Dreams
I’m standing on this roof not because I’m waiting for
Synchronizing Hearts in the Copper Glow
My pulse is a steady clock signal, but tonight it’s overclocking.
The Scent of Toasted Memories in an Orange Bag
I walked through the neon arteries of Shinjuku, my fingers tightening around
The Golden Glitch of Us
I stand at the intersection where time begins to fray, my mustard
