Crimson Static
Dust motes dance.
A fractured light, a borrowed room. The scent of
Ephemeral Bloom in Concrete Fields
The city breathes a metallic sigh, doesn't it? Rain slicked
Golden Hour Reveries
The light, thick as honey, pools across the floorboards and warms my
Sunlit Skin, Silent Echoes
Dust motes dance.
A quiet room. His absence, a soft ache.
The
Ephemeral Resonance
The city’s hum is a low thrum against my skin, a
The Echo of Your Laughter in Empty Rooms
Dust motes danced in the afternoon sun, just like they did in
Ephemeral Bloom
The light spills across the polished wood floors, a warm echo of
Lavender Dusk & City Lights
The rain outside hums a languid jazz tune, mirroring the quiet melody
Velvet Bloom
The rain had been relentless, a city weeping its way through another
Lacuna of Silk
The light falls here differently. Always has. It’s not the same
The Geometry of Light & Skin
The late afternoon sun, a relentless surveyor, mapped the curves of my
Shadow Bloom
Dust settles on everything, even inside. Like the way it clings to
