The Weight of Lilacs
The rain always smelled like possibility in this city. Not dramatic, sweeping
Healing Journey
Echoes in Rust
The rain smelled like iron and regret, a familiar scent in this
Echoes in Velvet
The rain always smells like possibility here. It clings to the brick,
Echoes of Dawnlight
The rain always hits hardest after the shift. It’s a brutal
Neon Echoes
The rain arrived softly.
It blurred the neon signs, softened the edges
Echoes in Porcelain
The steam. It always curls around his shoulders, a ghost of warmth
Echoes in the Blue
The chlorine scent still clings to my skin, a ghost of summer
Echoes of Lavender Rain
The rain in the city always smells like lavender, doesn’t it?
Echoes of Salt & Sunlight
The salt spray tasted like a forgotten memory, a whisper of childhood
Echoes in the Azure
The city breathes a chill, even at dawn. I pull my robe
Echoes in the Turquoise
The salt clung to everything – my hair, my skin, even the edges
Salt & Siren Song
The sand still held the ghost of his heat. Stupid, clinging warmth.
