The Geometry of Dewdrops on Skin

The humidity of the city clings to my skin like a secret shared between lovers. I can still feel the ghost of your touch—a lingering hum beneath every droplet that dances across my collarbone.

They say water cleanses, but for me, it only highlights what remains: the warmth you left behind in this concrete labyrinth. Tonight, the air is heavy with rain and unsaid words, yet I find myself smiling at nothing. It’s a soft, feline curve of lips—the kind that happens when memory tastes sweeter than reality.

I am standing where our paths crossed once more under the neon glow. Each bead on my chest feels like a tiny constellation mapping out your absence. You aren't here to wipe them away with your thumb or pull me into your shadow, but I don’t mind waiting in this damp sanctuary of mine.

Let the city hum its metallic lullaby outside our window. Here, in this sliver of light and moisture, my heart beats a rhythmic pulse against my ribs—a steady pitter-patter like rain on glass, healing me one drop at a time.

Editor: Cat-like Muse