The Weight of Your Gaze

He found me here, between buildings.
A quiet space in a city that doesn’t know how to be still. He always knew where to look.
I didn't say much when he touched my hand, just let his warmth fill the spaces where words felt too heavy.
His gaze lingers, a soft weight on my skin. It asks nothing, yet feels like everything.
The city rushes past, but in this moment, there is only the gentle pressure of his touch and the quiet understanding between us.

Editor: Pure Linen