The Sand Between Heartbeats
The city is a machine that never sleeps, yet here I am,
Terminal Chronicler
The Afterglow of a Submerged Clock
The city hums outside, a low vibration that travels through the concrete
The Prism of a Midnight Arrival
The city doesn't sleep; it only blinks in neon hues,
The Salt of a Second Chance
The train station is always loudest just before the final departure, a
The Geometry of a Shared Umbrella
The city doesn't sleep; it merely exhales in neon-lit sighs.
The Greenery of a Stolen Hour
The city outside is a cacophony of grinding gears and neon static,
The Amber Hue of a Lingering Goodbye
The city breathes in shallow gasps tonight, its neon veins pulsing with
The Heartbeat of a Quiet Alleyway
The sun retreats like a tired traveler, leaving the stone path bathed
Fragments of a Summer Tide
I sat by the window of the last bus, my fingers tracing
The Transparency of a Summer Afternoon
I stepped out into the midday glare, draped in nothing more than
The Last Bus to a Forgotten Spring
I chose this kimono because it smells of old cedar and the
The Blue Hour of Forgetting
I remember the sound of the last bus pulling away from 4th
