The Amber Hour of Us
I am drinking sunlight and cold foam, while you watch me from
Floating Muse
The Indigo Hum of a Neon Heartbeat
I carry the weight of a thousand forgotten constellations in my hair,
The Scent of Rain on a Paper Heart
I am a ghost in the machinery of this city, drifting through
The Amber Resonance of a Rainy Tuesday
The city breathes in neon pulses, but here—within the sanctuary of
The Steam Between Our Silences
The city is a humming machine that never sleeps, but here—beneath
The Cobalt Hum of a City Heartbeat
I am a fragment of midnight caught in the neon glare of
The Amber Hour of Us
I am a creature composed of city lights and forgotten playlists, drifting
The Amber Hour Between Heartbeats
I am a creature of glass and twilight, drifting through the concrete
The Amber Resonance of a Quiet Hour
I am a ghost in this city of steel and glass, drifting
Crimson Echoes on a Glass Sea
The city is a ghost I left behind, its steel veins still
The Amber Hour of Forgetting
I have become a collector of light, hoarding the way it clings
The Architecture of Morning Light
The sunlight hit the bed before I opened my eyes, a silent
