Beneath a twilight sky tinted with love's eternal embrace, I find myself tracing echoes of a melody only half-heard. Each note, an unfinished tale woven by an unseen hand. Hushed scriptures written between the breaths of the wind, a language only decipherable through longing. In the silence, the heart speaks volumes.
Hurry, pursue, she implored the shadow of the will-o'-the-wisp, her words a soft lament heard through the void. It dwelled not in time, nor within the contours of flesh, but in a space where unspoken tender whispers settled like dew. The wordless sentences a phantom decoder vibrated; one destined to linger quietly at the edges.
An epiphany slipped between my fingers, written by the memory of a touch left long untouched. Folded within the creases, a promise withheld, breathing through forgotten clock hands. Here, dreams were not merely visions but lived embodiments of those starlight-laden secrets. Dreams linger as pages in an unopened book.
Decode it. Odes to the intangible linger like murmurs beneath layers of dreams, awaiting the curious heart willing to map the invisible. A voyager of passion's memoirs, deciphering the touches unknown.
Somewhere in decoding voids, a part of me lives, eternally translucent and echoing. Adrift upon waves of intangible ardor, we stand beneath an eternity fixed in a moment's fleeting enchanted haze. To decode: to breathe life into the void.