A Red Pulse Against the White Silence of the City
The window is cold against my cheek, and beyond it the city
intimate portrait
The Soft Edge of Waiting
The city outside is a blur of cold neon and rushing headlights,
The Warmth Between the Tracks
I did not come to the shop for the music. I came
When the Ink Dries on My Silicon Skin
The city's neon code had been streaming through my optic
The Grey Thread in a Concrete City
I lean my back against the cold black iron fence, the city
The Glow We Both Pretend Not to See
It is past midnight and the city outside my window has finally
Where Color Dies, Warmth Remains
The city outside has gone grey, its neon bleeding into the glass
The Weightless Warmth of Coming Home
I lift the linen above my head and feel it unfurl like
The Quiet Empire of My Skin
The rain had stopped just before midnight, leaving the city washed in
The Yellow I Summoned Into Your Grey
I chose the yellow lace not for him but for the season,
Purple Lace and the Alley That Held Me
I still smell like burnt bodega coffee when I think about that
The Humidity of a Shared Reflection
The city breathes in heavy, humid sighs against my skin. Here, under
