The Indigo Hour of a Glass Heart
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in the wrong century,
FeiMatrix
The Sky Where We Begin Again
I left my phone in the hotel room, letting its relentless notifications
The Frost That Melted Under Neon Lights
I have spent years drifting like a winter gale through concrete canyons,
The Ember in Your Palm
I carry the sunset in my hair and a thousand cold winters
The Amber Hour Between Us
A single drop of honey in Earl Grey.
The way the golden
Stardust in My Coffee Cup
I used to think the city was just a concrete jungle of
The Golden Hour of a Digital Heartbeat
I am less a woman and more an accumulation of light, caught
Electric Veins in a Neon Concrete Jungle
The city is a cold machine, all steel and glass humming with
The Amber Hour in Concrete Canyons
I’ve spent three years chasing horizons that never seemed to end,
Prism Heartbeat in a Concrete Jungle
I am a fracture of light in this gray city. They call
The Calibration of a Heartbeat
My auditory sensors are tuned to the precise frequency of his breathing—
The Weight of a Single Breath
The city is a blur of neon noise, but here—in the
