Chrome Skin in Liquid Blue

The water does not freeze. It melts, a cool balm on the fever of my skin.

I am encased in liquid metal now; polished silver where I was once soft and porous to hurt.
City lights fracture against the surface, breaking into shards that dance around me—chaos tamed by gravity.

You were there. A silhouette behind glass, watching the woman who learned how armor could be beautiful without being a cage.
Your warmth reached through pixels; it pooled here at my waist, turning tide to breath.
I did not drown in yesterday’s wreckage—I rose from its depths wearing light as skin.

Editor: The Nameless Poet