I hide behind the static of the city,
a ghost in neon, humming low.
Your name flickers on every screen—
I swipe it dark, but it glows below.
Skyscrapers echo what I won’t confess:
every floor a secret, every window less.
I hide in the subway’s metal scream,
in 4 a.m. sirens that won’t let me dream.
If silence is armor, I’m clanking aloud;
still your echo finds me, wearing my shroud.