The Eternal Bloom of a Summer Night
I remember the city always felt too loud for a heart as
South Wind
The Polka Dot Memory of a Summer Noon
I remember the way you looked at me when I stepped through
The Color of Your Quietest Hour
I used to think the city was a machine designed to make
The Scent of Saltwater and Old Letters
I often wonder if the ocean remembers us, or if it only
The Golden Hour of Our Quietest Goodbye
I remember the way you looked at me through the golden haze
The Golden Hour We Borrowed from Eternity
I remember the city was breathing in heavy sighs when we left
The Emerald Hour of Our Longing
I often wonder if time is merely a river that forgets its
Whispers of a Saltwater Dream
I remember the way the city used to breathe—heavy with exhaust
The Echo of a Midnight Glance
I remember the way the city lights used to blur against the
The Echo of a Sunlit Memory
Do you remember the way the city lights used to blur into
The Golden Hour of Forgetting
The city hums a restless, metallic tune just beyond the park'
The Art of Slow Morning Light
The morning light has a way of finding you, even when the
