Sugar Rush Syndrome
The chrome of the bike hummed, a low thrum that synced with
Healing
Afterglow & Chrome
The rain had faded to a grey smear on the asphalt. He’
Rosy Afterglows
The scent of lavender still clings to the sheets, a ghost of
The Dewdrop's Bloom
The rain outside felt like a gentle soaking of memory, each drop
Ephemeral Bloom
The light fractured – a million tiny explosions against the damp city air.
The Weight of Dust Motes
The rain always smelled like borrowed memories. Not ours, necessarily, just lingering
The Weight of Petals
The rain smelled faintly of sugar and regret. Not a particularly appealing
The Echo of Flame
The wax wept a slow, golden grief into the palm of my
Static Bloom
The rain always tasted like regret. Like cheap whiskey and missed connections.
Rain-Kissed Skin
The glass pressed cold against my cheek, a million tiny needles tracing
Dust & Amber Light
The rain always seemed to find me, didn’t it? A slow,
Rainfall Echoes
The city held its breath.
Rain fell, a quiet weight on the
