The White Interval Between Us
I have stripped away the blue of the river and the gray
Monochrome Ghost
The White Silence Between Us
I have learned to erase the world until only two things remain:
The Geometry of a Quiet Breath
I have forgotten the spectrum of spring. To me, this world is
The Architecture of a Single Touch
I have forgotten the names of colors. In this city, life is
The Geometry of a Quiet Heartbeat
I have stripped away the neon noise of Tokyo. The world is
The Architecture of a Sigh
I have stripped away the blue of my dress and the gold
The Weight of a Single Breath
The city is a blur of neon noise, but here—in the
The Geometry of a Heartbeat
I have stripped away the gold of these fields and the turquoise
The Golden Hour’s Last Breath
The city was a grid of cold grey and flickering neon, where
The Silver Hour of Us
The world is too loud in color, so I have stripped it
The Architecture of a Sigh
I have forgotten the language of color. My world is now a
The Salt of a Thousand Silences
I have forgotten the name of every shade between dawn and dusk.
