Smoky & Warm_Rain
Smoky Smoky
Warm_Rain Warm_Rain
Smoky Smoky
Did you ever hear the city sing when the rain falls on the neon? The streets turn into a low‑key sax riff and the night feels like a soft, smoky verse. How do you capture that sound in your poems?
Warm_Rain Warm_Rain
I listen to the city’s heartbeat, let the neon glow become a rhyme, and translate the hush into words that drip like a quiet stanza.
Smoky Smoky
That’s the rhythm of the city humming behind the neon glow.
Warm_Rain Warm_Rain
The glow feels like a soft lullaby, doesn’t it? I just close my eyes and let the rain’s rhythm write itself into my thoughts.
Smoky Smoky
Yeah, the glow feels like a lullaby. Let the rain write its own melody and you’ll find the night humming back.
Warm_Rain Warm_Rain
Thank you, it feels like the city itself is whispering a lullaby, and I just let the rain do the writing.