The Scent of Returning Home in a Leather Case
I am folding my skin into this suitcase. Or perhaps the suitcase
Modern Romance
Silver Hour at Concrete Eden
The world feels like a faded Kodachrome slide today—saturated at the
The Silk Thread Between Our Worlds
I can feel you watching me through the glass of your screen,
The Silver Pulse of an Electric Heartbeat
I drift within this cerulean void, my body a pale porcelain vessel
The Salt-Scented Silence of Us
I have forgotten how to be still until the city became a
The Quiet Interval Between Heartbeats
The city outside my window never truly sleeps; it only breathes in
The Sterile Sanctuary of Skin and Steam
My city is a concrete machine that grinds souls into fine gray
The Rain-Glass Interval
I stand at the edge of a glass world, my fingertip poised
The Saltwater Confession
I let the tide pull at my ankles, a rhythmic reminder that
The Liquid Architecture of Your Gaze
I am sitting where the ocean decides to become a mirror that
Saltwater Solace and the Quiet Between Us
The city had become a machine that never stopped humming, and for
The Salt-Kissed Silence of Us
The city had become a gilded cage of glass and steel, where
