The Weight of Silk
He thinks he wants a rescue. All these men do, really – some
Cinderella’s Coach
The Static Between Us
He always found me at this hour, didn't he? Lingering
Velvet Moss & Brine
The moss clings to everything here, a damp, persistent embrace. It’s
Fractured Light, Liquid Heat
The rain always smelled of burnt sugar. Appropriate, considering the residue clinging
Asphalt Serenade
The rain tasted of exhaust and regret. Not a particularly pleasant cocktail,
The Weight of Petals
The rain smelled faintly of sugar and regret. Not a particularly appealing
The Weight of Ink and Bone
The rain against the windowpanes isn’t a lament, merely background noise.
Neon Echoes, Silent Heat
The rain smelled of exhaust and regret. Fitting, really.
I’d spent