Air Remembers How to Cry

I don't float, I measure. Every curve, Every shadow. Grace is my sword, Silence my shelter. Lines so clean they cut the sky. Like porcelain smoke, I rise and glide. Beauty isn't sweet, it's sharp and right. Symmetry's breath in the quietest fight. Eyes, red lies, and a glance too long. My skin speaks peace, but it hums with thorns. I dance where logic meets the bloom. In lace and glass, I build my room. Don't confuse my soft with tame. I burn in silence, not in flame. On the edge of light, where justice hides. Where beauty weeps but never cries. If you come in peace, you'll feel me whole. But chaos cracks my self-control. Hair like glass, don't make it bleed. I'm a rose that cuts when you don't see Me. You Want to touch but miss the tone. It's not the petal, it's the throne. I bend like reeds but break like code. I won't repeat a path I know. Don't bring your fire if it's blind. My world is built on angled light. I saw your storm before you spoke. I felt your lie beneath your hope. So I retreat behind the art. Where every line protects my heart. On the edge of light, the final grace. The silent oath you can't erase. If you're still, I'll open wide. But if you rage, I'll turn to sky. All lines, laser-ripe. Emerald bones, you'll never reach me. Rose stone. To know me, Become still. To touch me, Become Clean.