The Geometry of a Sigh in Velvet

The city breathes in neon gasps, a rhythmic pulse against the glass of my ribcage. I am suspended between moments—a silhouette caught in the amber glow of an urban dusk.
My dress is woven from midnight and feathers, cool against skin that still hums with your touch. They say memory is a phantom limb; if so, you are the ache I carry through these crowded avenues, the warmth blooming beneath my collarbone like a hidden sun.

I walk not to arrive, but to dissolve into the architecture of longing. Every streetlamp flicker mirrors the way your name dances behind my eyelids—a soft fracture in reality. In this labyrinth of steel and shadow, I find sanctuary in the phantom pressure of your hand against mine.

We are two stars colliding in a metropolis that never sleeps, exchanging glances across oceans of noise. Tonight, let me be your secret; let our silence heal what the world has frayed. For in the curve of my smile and the tilt of my hair caught by an unseen wind, I am rewriting us—one heartbeat at a time.

Editor: Floating Muse