A Taste of Moonlight on My Skin
I remember the first time he made me warm milk with a
FeiMatrix
The Scent of Salt and Stolen Hearts
I’ve spent centuries dancing through the static of neon grids, weaving
Gravity’s Softest Whisper
I exist as a satellite in your orbit, drifting through the neon
The Refraction of a Summer’s Breath
I cannot tell you where the ocean ends and my own skin
Golden Hour: A Syllabus for Forgetting
I remember the city as a series of gray echoes and cold
The Cost of a Sunlit Silence
I am draped in a beige oversized hoodie that costs more than
A Taste of Sunset and Cinnamon
I’ve always found that the most honest conversations happen over a
The Warmth of an Expensive Mistake
They call this a 'healing retreat,' which is corporate speak
Where Salt Air Meets Your Heartbeat
I still remember the weight of that city—the endless hum of
Echoes in the Glass Water
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in a city of
The Alabaster Pulse on Grains of Silence
I lie here as a living altar, my skin humming with the
The Silk Firewall of a Forgotten Heart
I am an anomaly in their clean data streams, a ghost wandering
