Velvet Nights and Concrete Stars

The city below looks like spilled diamonds, doesn't it? I can feel the hum of ten million souls vibrating through my boots on this concrete ledge. My purple jacket is a silken shell, holding in all the heat we generated when you whispered that secret against the curve of my neck just moments ago.
I turn back to see if you are still watching me with those eyes—the ones that make the skyline seem small and insignificant. In this neon labyrinth, I used to feel like a ghost haunting my own life, but your hand on my waist anchors me to something real. The wind tugs at my hair, pulling it across my face like a curtain closing on everything else in the world except for us.
I don't want to go back down yet. Stay here with me, where we are suspended between the stars and the streetlights, wrapped in this shimmering silence that feels more intimate than any word spoken aloud.

Editor: Cloud Collector