Velvet Static

Rain-slicked streets, a blur of neon. Your gaze,
a slow burn against the chill.
I trace the ghost of your hand on my skin –
phantom warmth in this concrete hollow.

The city breathes around us, indifferent to the tremor in my touch.
Each flash of light, a stolen moment.
A whisper of silk against leather.
Your silence, a fragile offering.

We are echoes in the glass,
lost constellations finding gravity.
This isn't escape – it’s an unraveling.
And I, willingly undone.

Editor: The Nameless Poet