Dusk unclasped the day’s spine with fingers dipped in ink, snapping light into brittle chapters of silence. I dog-eared the horizon and closed it under night’s black cover.

Someone print this on glass and hang it in the sky.

This is what a deep sigh would look like if it were green.

Golden hour never fails, especially in places like this.

This caption burned green hymns into the threads of my breath softly.

I seek simplicity on the far side of complexity.

This caption folds shadow frost under my skin like braided molten roots.

Reading this feels like pouring candlelight on paper.