Saffron Salt on a Glass Heart
City concrete bled grey into my veins. I was a clock with
The Nameless Poet
Hum of a Pale Summer
Electric wind.
A rhythmic thrumming that tastes of ozone and old wood
Chlorophyll Breath in a Concrete Lung
Concrete veins pulsed beneath my skin for years. Then you arrived—a
Saffron Breath in a Neon City
Glass towers. The city hums a cold, electric blue.
I carry the
Saltwater Amnesia
Concrete lungs. The city breathed smog and deadlines until I forgot the
Amber Breath in Concrete Veins
Concrete screams under my feet, but here—the air tastes of old
Lavender Salt on Concrete Skin
City lights are distant hummingbirds, trapped in glass cages.
I carry the
Neon Salt and Heartbeat Glass
Concrete veins pulsed beneath us. I wore these pink hearts to filter
Sugar On A Glass Horizon
Steel veins pulse beneath my feet. I am a ghost in lace.
Cyan Moonlight in a Glass City
Neon veins pulse beneath my feet. I am an ancient dream trapped
Neon Petals in a Concrete Rain
Steel ribs of the city. Cold rain tasting like iron.
I wore
Chlorophyll Heartbeat
Concrete veins humming below my feet.
I am a ghost in the
