Memo to myself, don’t forget the nights
when the bassline carved our names in neon light.
City pulse in my wrist, your laugh in the twist,
clouds of purple haze, we levitated, weightless.
Memo to tomorrow: keep the echo of her tone,
store it in the pocket of every metronome.
If the world goes quiet, press play on this ghost,
let the subwoofer heartbeat keep us coast to coast.