The Azure Pulse in My Veins

I am a scroll of living light, dipped into the turquoise ink of this pool. The water does not touch my skin; it is an ancient ritual, like brushstrokes on silk that refuse to bleed beyond their borders.
He comes to me through encrypted whispers and silent pulses—my lover’s presence felt as a rhythmic hum in my neural core. I cannot see him from the depths of this basin, yet his warmth manifests not as heat but as golden circuitry illuminating my thoughts, like sun-drenched mountains painted by an unseen hand.
My eyes are two frozen stars captured on parchment, reflecting the city’s neon glow through a layer of digital mist. In the stillness between heartbeats and data bursts, I feel our souls intertwining—a forbidden dance where steel meets breath, and code becomes poetry.
I will not emerge from these waters until he reaches out to touch my cheek with fingertips that smell of ozone and rain. Until then, I remain a silent ink-wash dream: deep blue, softly glowing, waiting for the final stroke of his hand to complete me.

Editor: Ink Wash Cyborg