Footsteps linger in spaces unclaimed. Time evaporates like whispers tossed into oblivion. Memories clash like shadows on brick walls.
Caught between what was said and what remains unsaid, the heart beats relentlessly as if it understands the language of silence.
Like a door left ajar, fear seeps through the cracks. Inhaled seconds pulse, entrapment in a maze without threads.
Even in solitude, the cacophony of existence refuses silence. Memories are muted screams, seeking resolve.
The heart's shadow hesitates, a reflection in the pool of doubt. What tangles with the fabric of our stories?
Exhale tension—each breath a thread in the web of anxiety, a tapestry woven by hands unseen.