The Salt on My Skin Is Your Name
The city hums a low, metallic song that never sleeps, yet here
The Salt on Your Skin, The Silence Between Us
The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and distant
The Scent of Returning Home in a Leather Case
I am folding my skin into this suitcase. Or perhaps the suitcase
Silver Threads in an Iron City
The city hums with a digital restlessness that often feels like noise
The Sun's Last Letter to My Skin
I remember how the city used to feel like a cold machine,
The Blue Hour Between Us
I have always lived in the margins of time, collecting moments like
Cold Glass and Warm Skin
The city outside is a jagged mess of neon and noise, but
The Midnight Ascent of Silk and Neon
The city is an anchor I have finally learned to slip. Here,
Midnight Frost, Silk Heat
Three in the morning. The city is a muted hum beyond these
Sunlight on Concrete, Silence Between Us
The city hums at a frequency I no longer care to match.
The Gilded Cage and Its Warmth
I stand suspended between floors, encased in a glass box that feels
The Red Tower's Quiet Confession
I have always felt like a ghost in this city of neon
