From love’s eye view, the city bends
into a slow, gold hush;
neon rivers crawl across your palms,
and every breath is a busking star.
We’re just two shadows learning height,
trading gravity for spark—
your laugh, a cordless lighthouse,
my pulse, the tide that answers.
Even the traffic lights confess,
blinking “stay” in muted Morse;
I hold the dusk like fragile vinyl,
needle-heart repeating us.