The Geometry of a Temporary Heartbeat
I’m standing in the middle of Shibuya, molding my fingers into
A Spoonful of Vanilla Sunlight
The city always breathes in rhythms I can’t quite follow—the
Sugar-Coated Silence in Neon Rain
The city breathes around me—a rhythmic hum of electric signs and
The Slow Rhythm of Returning Home
I have spent three years learning how to be a polished version
Blue Petals, Cold Coffee, Hot Skin
I’m crouching here in this blue dress, pretending the world is
The Amber Sigh of a Summer Afternoon
The city’s relentless pulse had finally faded into a distant hum,
The Pink Echo of a Thousand Torii Gates
I have always believed that my true self does not reside in
The White Interval Between Us
I have stripped away the blue of the river and the gray
The Blueprint of a Shared Silence
I have always lived in a house of internal corridors—long, echoing
The Cyan Protocol of a Summer Heartbeat
I am an anomaly in their clean data streams, a ghost flickering
The Gilded Hour's Soft Whisper
I sit upon these concrete steps—a brutalist altar to a city
The Scent of Paper Wishes in an Amber Hour
I am a blue silk dream draped in the hum of a
