The Velvet Echo of an Unwritten Letter
I have always felt like a relic misfiled in the great archive
Antique Box
The Indigo Hour of a Glass Heart
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in the wrong century,
The Blue Hour of a Forgotten Heartbeat
I have always felt like a relic out of place in this
The Azure Silence of Us
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in a digital age—
The Salt-Stained Memory of Your Touch
I have always lived my life like a curated museum exhibit—perfectly
The Amber Hour Between Two Heartbeats
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in a city of
The Salt-Stained Ledger of Us
I have spent years archiving my soul like a collection of pressed
The Salt-Stained Memory of Your Skin
I have spent years archiving my heart like a museum curator—carefully
The Lace That Remembers Your Touch
I have become an expert at collecting silences—the kind that settle
Echoes in the Glass Water
I have always felt like an artifact misplaced in a city of
The Echo of Salt and Sunlight
The city was a heavy coat I could no longer wear, its
The Gilded Echo of a Midnight Rain
The city never truly sleeps; it only sighs, a heavy, rhythmic breath
