The Blue and the Unsaid

This isn’t a face—it’s a collision. Those blue eyes aren’t just looking at you; they’re rewriting you. The mist isn’t obscuring the city—it’s the city dissolving under her gaze. And those lips? They’re not berry-stained—they’re bruised by all the words she decided not to say.

Note: That nose ring? It’s not jewelry—it’s a hook for the ghosts she’s caught between her teeth.