Chlorophyll Heartbeat

Concrete veins humming below my feet.
I am a ghost in the glass city until you touch my shoulder.
Your fingers smell of old books and rain-dampened pavement.
Suddenly, I am not here; I am under maple leaves that whisper secrets we haven't spoken yet.
A green dress draped like skin over silence.
I lean back into the shade—the city’s roar becomes a distant tide.
Your breath is a warm current against my neck, pulling me from the grey world and planting me in this emerald dream.
We do not speak of love; we let it grow between us like moss on stone.
I look at you through filtered light—the kind that makes time forget to move.

Editor: The Nameless Poet