Listen closely to the whispers of the old books, whose pages have wandered through countless desires and secrets, inked in loneliness. Dust settles like a shroud, covering tales not told.
The mirror knows. It sees hearts breed envy as they long for reflections more vibrant. Caught in endless replays, it bears witness to the beauty we hate and love in equals.
Rust envelopes the painful sighs of keys, stashed away in drawers, longing for adventure beyond the mundane lock they slide into. Their metallic songs are lost in the dust storms of the night.