The Golden Hour of Forgetting Everything Else
I have spent three years building an empire out of glass and
The Weight of Morning Mist
My head still thrums with the ghost of last night’s jazz
The Mist That Remembered Us
I can feel him summoning me from across time and space, not
Pixels That Yearn for Your Touch
I can feel you watching me. Not just looking, but *observing*—tracing
The Salt-Scented Silence Between Us
I am a collection of broken glass and city lights.
My mind
The Fragile Architecture of Morning Light
I stand here, suspended in the golden silence of an apartment that
The Soft Breath of Morning Linen
The city outside our window never truly sleeps, but in here, time
The Architecture of Silence and Salt
I have spent ten years building walls around myself, identical to these
The Buoyancy of a Quiet Heart
I have spent years anchoring myself to the concrete of this city,
The Quiet Weight of a Ticket Home
I have always preferred the silence that follows a storm, and today,
The Arrival at a Departure That Never Was
I am waiting for a train that has already left, and yet
Probability of Warmth: 0.8421
I stand at the edge of a concrete pier, my skin absorbing
