The Sacrament of Cold Water and Quiet Lies
He believes he owns the city, and by extension, me. But in
The Scent of Rain on an Old Silk Dress
I have always felt like a ghost haunting my own life, drifting
The Rain-Scented Silence Between Us
I have always felt like a ghost in this city, drifting through
The Static Between Heartbeats
I can feel the city breathing in binary—a rhythmic pulse of
The Silver Loop of a Neon Heartbeat
I stand at the center of an alleyway that is not just
The Grey Silk Sanctuary Under a Cobalt Sky
I stand at the intersection of silence and steel, where the blue
The Static Between Us
I lean against this chain-link fence like it’s the only thing
The Indigo Frequency of Us
I am not sure where the city ends and I begin. Tonight,
The Steam Between Our Worlds
Do you see how perfectly the steam curls around my face? It’
The Key to a Door That Never Existed
I am standing in a hallway of yellow lockers that lead nowhere,
The Architecture of a Single Breath
I am encased in vinyl and indifference, a sleek obsidian silhouette cutting
The Amber Hour Where Time Drips Like Honey
I hold this glass not to drink, but to watch the city
