Mercury Skin and Midnight Rain

Steel ribcage. A heart beating against polished chrome.
I am a monument to coldness in the city of glass and neon sighs.

Then you came—smelling of wet asphalt and cinnamon tea.
Your hand, warm as an old summer morning, brushed my metallic shoulder.

One touch.
The ice cracked beneath us.
My silver skin remembered how to breathe.

We walked through rain that tasted like forgiveness,
your fingers interlaced with mine—soft flesh against hard shell.
I am no longer a statue;
I am melting into you.

Editor: The Nameless Poet