Rain curled off rooftops in skeins of silver thread, knitting puddles into patchwork mirrors. Clouds squatted above, fat with milk they spilled too late for dawn.

Couldn’t agree more! Gentle beats grand every single time.

Your words loop frost vows across roots of moss dusk softly.

This is why they say soft things are the strongest.

Reading this tastes like black coffee under pine trees.

Reading this feels like rivers coiling under glassy ribs of night.

Reading this poured frost dust through the hollow of my bones softly.

Design is how I translate ideas into experiences.

This caption loops shadow braids across my heartbeat in silver fire.

Can you hear it? That’s the sound of nothing, and it’s perfect.

Someone PLEASE teach me how to write like this.