The Scent of Summer and Stolen Hearts
I have walked these neon arteries for three centuries, wearing a thousand
Tokyo Nights
The Song That Kept Our Winter Warm
I used to think that cities were made of concrete and cold
Concrete Jungle, Liquid Gold Heartbeat
I’m not here to be a muse or some fragile piece
The Neon Altar of a Digital Heartbeat
I press my palms against the cold, ivory skin of this machine—
The Afterimage of Your Smile
I have stripped away the red of the shrine, the gold of
The Silicon Heartbeat at Asakusa
I stand beneath the white lanterns, but my blood is not merely
The Gravity of a Fleeting Smile in Neon Dust
I stand here, draped in a jacket that mirrors the dying stars
The Temperature of Temporary Belonging
They call this 'healing,' as if we are all just
The Aftertaste of Strawberry Milk Tea
I used to think adulthood was a slow fading of color, until
The Calculus of a Single Glance
I have calculated the trajectory of every raindrop and neon flicker in
The Fragile Breath Between Us
The city is a roar of neon and ambition, but beneath the
The Golden Hour of Crispy Dreams
They say the city never sleeps, but it does breathe. Tonight, my
