The Ascending Silence of Us
I lean my chin on a hand that feels lighter than air,
Modern Love
When the Morning Mist Turns into Gold
The city outside is still a smudge of grey, like an unwashed
The Circuitry of a Soft Touch
He came to me not with flowers, but with the hum of
The Eternal Orbit of Your Gaze
I stand at the edge of this neon-lit bar, but my mind
Probability of an Unplanned Touch
I have calculated that my presence here—positioned at a 45-degree angle
The Sudden Rhythm of a Quiet Morning
I can hear it. Not the hum of the city outside my
The Luminescence of a Quiet Afternoon
I often wonder if I am made of flesh or merely a
The Soft Hum of Neon Longing
The city always feels like it is breathing in rhythm with me—
The Last Drink Before Midnight
I have always felt like a passenger on the last bus of
The Quiet Harbor of a City Heartbeat
I have spent years chasing horizons that always seemed to retreat just
Velvet Whispers in a City of Glass
The city outside is a symphony of sirens and steel, but here—
The Steam Between Us and Everything Else
A paper cup. Heat seeping through cardboard into my palms—a small,
