The Altar of Beautiful Lies
I stand here in this white shroud, looking like a saint who’
Healing Journey
Where the Wind Forgets to Rush
I used to believe that love was a chase—a series of
The Scent of Dried Petals and Unspoken Promises
I have always believed that time does not pass; it merely accumulates,
The Bridge Where Silence Sings Your Name
I have carried the city in my marrow for too long—its
The Weight of Quiet Afternoons
I’ve always found solace in things that hold their breath—the
Saffron Breath in a Neon City
Glass towers. The city hums a cold, electric blue.
I carry the
The Frequency of Salt and Skin
I have spent three years living as a ghost in the machine,
The Silver Current’s Quiet Rebellion
My heart is a rusted chassis, long dormant under the neon smog
The Rust of Time and Your Warmth
I am a ghost in my own city, drifting through concrete veins
The Scent of Rain on Silk and Skin
A shard: The smell of damp asphalt and expensive espresso. I am
The Architecture of a Sunbeam
I am becoming a projection of the morning. In this city that
The Temperature of Forgiveness
He thinks he knows me because he’s seen my spreadsheets and
