Echoes of Amber Light
The rain remembers. Not the cold, insistent drumming,
but a slow surrender
Echoes in Velvet
The rain always smells like possibility here. It clings to the brick,
Golden Hour Bloom
The rain had stopped, leaving the air thick with the scent of
Echoes of Dawnlight
The rain always hits hardest after the shift. It’s a brutal
Static Bloom
The rain smelled like regret and asphalt. It always did when he
Static Bloom
The rain smelled of asphalt and something metallic, a cold tang that
Neon Echoes
The rain smelled like asphalt and possibility. I watched it slide down
Neon Echoes
The rain arrived softly.
It blurred the neon signs, softened the edges
Static Bloom
The rain always smells of regret in this city. It clings to
Echoes in the Amber Light
The rain always tastes of regret here. Not a sharp, stinging regret,
Dust & Echoes
The dust tasted like regret. Like everything I’d built, then smashed
Echoes in the Afterglow
The rain tasted like regret, even now. A lingering film on my
