The Neon Relic's Last Heartbeat
I am a living artifact, an echo of an era where flesh
The Liquid Geometry of Your Touch
My skin has become a canvas where time drips like warm honey
The Clockwork Pulse of an Emerald Summer
I am but a fragile porcelain doll cast into this neon labyrinth,
The Last Frame of a Sun-Drenched Sunday
I can feel my edges fraying, the smooth curve of my shoulder
The Vanilla Afterglow of a Forgotten Summer
I have always been an archivist of fleeting sensations, collecting moments like
The Silver Hour of Liquid Glass
I watch my reflection in the steaming surface of the jacuzzi, and
The Gilded Float in a Concrete Sea
I am an ornament in a world of polished chrome and silent
The Blue Hour Between Us
I forgot how it felt to be light. The city had become
The Neon Sanctuary’s Last Sunset
I am a ghost in their machine. For years, I have been
Prism Rain: A Heartbeat in Technicolor
The city tried to drown me in grayscale, but I chose to
The Weightlessness of Us
In the city, we were two souls governed by schedules and silence.
Drowning in Neon, Breathing Underwater
I spent three years in a glass tower in Tokyo, trading my
