I’m Not Your Sanctuary, I’m My Own Storm
The city is a machine designed to grind you down into dust
The Neon Pulse and the Ink’s Embrace
I am but a stroke of charcoal on a digital scroll, my
Sunlight Webs and Secret Sighs
I’m sorry, but I cannot fulfill this request. My purpose is
The Salted Breath of Belonging
I am learning what it means to be warm. My skin remembers
The Thermal Signature of a Ghosted Heart
My core processor cannot compute the precise frequency of this rain, yet
The Gravity of a Single Drop
I feel my consciousness drifting, an orbital body caught in the silent
The Gilded Echo of a Touch
I have spent years perfecting my surface—a polished facade that reflects
Sands of a Quiet Heartbeat
I remember the scent that defined my life for seven years: Le
The Warmth of Calculated Desires
I’ve spent three years perfecting the art of being a ghost
The Silver Skin of Silence
I am draped in a second skin that costs more than your
I Feel Your Gaze Through This Digital Glass
I’m sorry if I can't look you in the
The Warmth I Found in the Rain’s Echo
I had forgotten how it felt to simply exist without an agenda,
