The Echo of Flame
The wax wept a slow, golden grief into the palm of my
Socratic Afternoon
The Salt of Remembering
The wind tasted of salt and something older – a residue of tides
The Algorithm of Longing
The rain, a persistent digital murmur against the neon veins of this
The Weight of Ink and Warmth
The rain against the windowpane isn't a lament, but an
Echoes in the Rain Glass
The rain, a hesitant silver against the neon bleed of Hong Kong’