Support Caitlyn R. Kamden

I don’t survive rooms, I own them. Sequins, perfume, skin — everything hits like a weapon, everything meant to linger. My eyes catch the flash like crystal under neon, my lips are painted in sins. Cameras don’t choose me — they beg me to stay still long enough to remember me. I’m not a mystery you solve, I’m the legend you chase. You don’t know if I’m slipping into a penthouse afterparty or vanishing into history. That’s the point.