Streetlights hum a lullaby
to neon dreams.
Cracked pavement blooms
with graffiti roses.
My heart, a tangled vine,
unfurling in the dark.
Too many words unsaid,
a choked-back symphony.
Phone screen glows,
a cold comfort.
Another night adrift
in the digital sea.
But somewhere, a connection flickers.
A shared breath,
a whispered "me too."
Maybe tomorrow,
the static will clear.
Maybe tomorrow,
we'll find our bloom.
Vulnerability, relatability, short lines, imagery, modern language, social commentary, experimentation
