Afterglow Bloom
The city hums outside, a low thrum of loneliness I’ve grown
Shadow Lover
The Rain Knows Our Secrets
The rain in Kyoto always felt like a quiet observation. It watched
The Weight of Dusk
The rain smelled like pavement and something sweeter, something that clung to
The Bloom in the Grey
The rain always found its way back to this corner of the
The Weight of Dust Motes
The rain always smelled like borrowed memories. Not ours, necessarily, just lingering
Crimson Echoes
The rain tasted like regret. Not a dramatic, sweeping kind of regret,
The Echo of Rain
The rain tasted like regret, a familiar flavor on my tongue.
It
Salt & Silence
The sand still held his scent. Not the sharp, immediate tang of
Salt & Silence
The rain had stopped, leaving the sand slick with a silver sheen.