Steel and silence wrapped in motion.
Color layered like noise—like memory.
A single word, loud as a siren: LOVE.
But love doesn’t stand still. It leans forward,
stretches thin, disappears around corners.

The rest—each other—dissolves in perspective,
swallowed by speed, distance, or time.
Over it all, a softer voice asks:
See me?

Not shouted. Not sprayed. Just left.
Floating. Flickering. Fragile.

This isn’t a command.
It’s a fragment. A flicker. A dare.
To finish the phrase. To mean it.
To mean more.

Steel and silence wrapped in motion.
Color layered like noise—like memory.
A single word, loud as a siren: LOVE.
But love doesn’t stand still. It leans forward,
stretches thin, disappears around corners.

The rest—each other—dissolves in perspective,
swallowed by speed, distance, or time.
Over it all, a softer voice asks:
See me?

Not shouted. Not sprayed. Just left.
Floating. Flickering. Fragile.

This isn’t a command.
It’s a fragment. A flicker. A dare.
To finish the phrase. To mean it.
To mean more.