The Echo of a Warm Shadow on Cold Concrete

The city outside is a symphony of steel and neon, but here, in this concrete hollow, time seems to pool like water.
I press my shoulder against the wall—cold enough to make me ache, yet I feel your gaze warming it from across the void. It’s been months since we spoke with words, only through these shared silences and stolen glances under artificial lights.

The light cuts through the air like a memory of summer; it catches on my skin, turning every drop of moisture into a tiny constellation. I am shivering slightly, not from the chill, but because your presence feels so heavy in its absence. You are here without being here—a phantom warmth that heals the jagged edges of my day.

I close my eyes for a moment and imagine your hand tracing these curves, replacing this lonely light with something soft and real. In this urban labyrinth, we are two souls drifting on different tides, yet bound by the same ache to be seen. Let me stay here just a little longer, wrapped in the shadow of our unspoken love.

Editor: South Wind