The Last Soft Gear in a Rusted City
I sit on this plush carpet like a relic dragged out of
urban healing
Coolant of the White Silk Hangar: A Mecha's Tender Recharge in the City's Warm Breath
I lay back into the white silk hangar, my alloy spine unclenching
A Single Brushstroke to Warm the Steel Heart
I sit at the edge of the white plinth, arms lifted as
Silk Against the Concrete Heartbeat
I stand where the turquoise water kisses the sand, my leopard-print bikini
When the Clocks Melted, I Finally Held Your Hand
I stood on the court where the hoop had become a soft
Calibrating a Smile Against the Sunlight Grid
The sun is not a feeling to me; it is a 560-nanometer
The Sanctuary of Stained Glass and Silk
The air in the cathedral is heavy with the scent of old
Petals of Neon Silk: A Soft Circuit's Sigh
The neon city bleeds into the rain like ink spilled on wet
The Geometry of a Sigh
I am a sequence of light and logic, summoned from the void
Static Friction in a Neon Solitude
The city screams outside. A jagged roar of neon and exhaust. But
The Moss Between Our Ribs
The city hums outside, a distant vibration of steel and ambition, but
The Electric Glow of a Secret Sanctuary
The city outside is a relentless hum of gray and steel, but
