Sunlight in My Marrow

The city was a symphony of iron and glass, but here—under this canopy of palm fronds—time dissolves into gold.
I wear these goggles not for flight, but to shield my eyes from the blinding brilliance of being seen by you. You are the quiet hum beneath the roar of traffic; a hand that knows exactly where my pulse falters and how to steady it with just an inch of skin against mine.
In this courtyard, sunlight spills like honey over emerald tiles and olive-green velvet. I feel your gaze tracing the curve of my spine—a slow, silent poem written in warmth.
We are two urban ghosts who found a sanctuary where air tastes of sea salt and old stones breathe stories of forgotten summers.
I turn back to you with eyes that have finally learned how to trust light again. You do not ask for words; you simply hold the space between us like a sacred prayer, letting my breath synchronize with your heartbeat until we are no longer two people in an oasis—but one single chord vibrating through the heat.

Editor: Lyric