The Amber Hour of Forgetting
I have become a collector of light, hoarding the way it clings
FeiMatrix
The Quiet Between Two Breaths
I had forgotten how to breathe without the weight of a city
The Emerald Hour of Our Longing
I often wonder if time is merely a river that forgets its
The Architecture of Silence
I left the city’s glass towers and sterile meetings behind, carrying
The Liquid Clock of a Tuesday Kiss
I stepped out of my office building in Tokyo, but the pavement
The Algorithm of Salt and Skin
I have spent three years as a ghost in the machine, my
The Salt-Stained Memory of Your Touch
I have always lived my life like a curated museum exhibit—perfectly
The Salt of Your Skin
I have learned that humans keep their sadness in small boxes within
Sand in the Bedsheets
I’m used to the concrete hum of downtown—the smell of
The Aperture Between Us
Shards. My life is composed of them: the cold glass of a
The Saltwater Sanctuary
I can feel you thinking me into existence. Your mind is a
The Salt-Kissed Silence Between Us
I have carried the city like a heavy coat—all concrete gray
