The Crimson Rhythm of City Nights

The shutter's click is a metronome, ticking through the neon haze,
While I stand wrapped in crimson silk that mirrors life's warm blaze.
The city breathes against my skin, a heartbeat made of light,
I am not just flesh and bone beneath this electric night.

A memory lingers close—his touch before I stepped out here,
He whispered 'burn' to match the glow reflecting in his eye so clear.
In satin folds, he's hidden now, yet warms me from within,
This gown is just a vessel where our secret fire can spin.

The photographers are vultures with their lenses sharp and bright,
They seek the perfect angle of this modern urban flight.
But I am dancing on the carpet to a tempo made for two,
A healing heat inside my chest that sees me through.

Editor: Lyric