The Quiet Geometry of Sunday Morning
The city outside the window is a machine that never stops humming,
Grocery Philosopher
The Neon Afterglow of a Tuesday Night
My day had been a relentless march of spreadsheets, lukewarm coffee in
The Scent of Sunscreen and Morning Coffee
I spent three hours yesterday scrubbing the grime off my favorite frying
The Scent of Rain on a Terminal Floor
I’ve always believed that love isn't found in grand
The Scent of Rain on Black Leather
I wore my kindest leather crop top today—the one that feels
The Scent of Fresh Bread and Quiet Longing
I’ve always believed that the soul of a city isn'
The Saltwater Cure for a Concrete Heart
My Monday morning used to start with the sterile hum of an
Saffron Sunsets and Concrete Dreams
I used to think happiness was something you bought in a fancy
The Warmth Between Two Coffee Beans
I used to think my life was just a series of checklists
Midnight Salt and Silken Promises
The city hums behind me, a frantic rhythm of traffic lights and
Gold Dust and Morning Espresso
The city wakes up with a heavy sigh, a symphony of screeching
Salt Air and Sunday Scaries
The city is a loud, crowded grocery aisle where everyone is rushing
