The Cold Glass Between Us
It is 11:42 PM, and the fluorescent hum of the convenience
Healing Journey
Syntax of a Sun-Drenched Soul
I stand at the edge of a city that never sleeps, yet
The Golden Hour of Our Quiet Return
I used to think love was like the city's last
Satin Skin and Concrete Breath
The city is a machine designed to grind people into gray dust,
The Gilded Pulse of an Amber Twilight
My heart is a rusted chronometer, its gears grinding with the slow
The Scent of Ink in a Glass World
I stand before this weathered green mailbox, but my eyes are not
Neon Rain and Minty Lies
The rain outside is doing a dance with the asphalt, blurring the
The Scent of Rain on a Woolen Collar
I have learned that humans use fabric to hide from the world,
The Emerald Echo of a Silent Heartbeat
I left the city when its noise began to sound like a
The Gravity of Your Touch
The city never stops screaming, but here—under this indigo canopy of
The Sacrament of Cold Water and Quiet Lies
He believes he owns the city, and by extension, me. But in
The Rain-Scented Silence Between Us
I have always felt like a ghost in this city, drifting through
