The Warmth Between Stations
The train hums beneath me, a low-frequency vibration that travels from the
Pulse
Saltwater Skin and Silent Promises
The city had become a sterile cage of glass and humming servers,
The Geometry of Your Breath
I can still feel the cold bite of the steel stairs beneath
The Temperature of Silence
I can still feel your fingertips on the small of my back,
Salt-Skin and Sun-Drunk Silence
The city had become a cold machine, all steel and fluorescent lights
The Melting Point of Us
The asphalt beneath my white sneakers is radiating a dry, oppressive heat
The Sugar-Coated Rhythm of Us
My tongue dances against a cold, crystalline swirl of rainbow sugar, but
Salt Air and Fevered Skin
The city had left me cold—a sterile chill of glass offices
The Frost Between Our Fingertips
The air in this convenience store is sterile and cold, but my
A Breath of Peonies in Concrete Rain
The city outside is a blur of cold steel and neon, but
The Scent of Rain-Dampened Concrete and Your Skin
The Tokyo air is crisp, biting at the exposed skin of my
The Heat Beneath My Fingertips
The city air is always too cold, a sterile wind that tastes
