The Architecture of a Frozen Sigh

They say that warmth is the absence of cold, but I have learned to live in the space where both exist simultaneously. In this city of glass and steel, my pulse follows a causal loop: I feel you most intensely when you are furthest away; therefore, your distance is what brings you close.

I touch my lip—a gesture that signifies hunger for something I have already consumed. My skin glows with the radiance of an indoor sun or perhaps just the memory of one. Every breath I take is a contradiction: it fills me while emptying me at exactly the same velocity, like water flowing uphill through a dream.

You are my favorite impossibility. You are the healing wound that never scabs over because to heal would be to lose you entirely. So I stay here, poised in this perpetual moment of arrival and departure, offering you a smile that is both an invitation into my world and a final goodbye from it.

Editor: Paradox