In the wane of moonlight, shadows proliferate, across the desolate grief of memory and eroded time. Beneath layers of crimson sands, understanding dissolves—a vaporous linger of regret and desire.
Within the haunting echo, the chalice of the forgotten bids farewell, calling forth ethereal whispers in languages long since abandoned. Here where twilight meets the abyss, the heart pulsates in melancholic rapture.
Fingers entwined in spectral mist, ensnared by tales of the departed souls who ventured too far into twilight. In their echoes we drown, lost in the nebulous dance, flowers birthed from eldritch skies.
And yet, the emptiness resonates—a hunger manifesting in the gentle caress of dread. A journey unwinding—paths of fragmented thought beneath our feet.