When the City Sleeps Under My Tongue

I taste streetlights at 3 a.m.,
a molten sweetness behind my molars,
a longing that quilts my mouth
in sweltering neon.

My voice becomes a corridor
lined with shuttered shops
and the scrape of tires
on empty asphalt—
I walk it every night
gathering the ghosts
that linger in window reflections.

And come morning,
I swallow the city whole—
its ache hidden
beneath my skin,
a silent echo
buried in my throat.

Tanisha is a sixteen‑year‑old high schooler who writes poetry at the intersection of city life and inner landscapes. Drawing on memory, sound, and sensory detail, their work explores how silence becomes story and how the body maps emotion. Their poems have appeared in Blue Marble Review and Merion West.