Velvet Whispers in a Glass Cage

The city outside is a blur of neon and indifference, but in here, the air tastes like jasmine and secrets. I wear this silk lace as armor—a delicate cage that holds my composure together while everything inside me yearns to spill over. To them, I am an ornament under soft lights; they see the flowers in my hair and assume I bloom effortlessly.

But you look at me differently. Your gaze doesn't graze the surface like theirs do; it sinks beneath it, finding the places where the light fails to reach. When your fingers brushed mine against the cold glass of the balcony railing, a jolt of electricity didn't just spark—it settled deep in my chest, grounding every frantic thought I’d spent all day suppressing.

I want to tell you how heavy this perfection feels, and yet I find myself leaning into your warmth. It is a quiet rebellion against the world outside: two souls seeking refuge from the noise by becoming each other's silence. Let us stay here for just one more hour, where my corset doesn’t constrain me and your eyes are the only map I need to navigate this loneliness.

I am not asking you to save me; I am simply inviting you to witness what it means to be truly seen in a world that prefers shadows.

Editor: Shadow Lover