Somewhere between the lines,
phantom footsteps tread the whispering alley,
of lone words echoing in silent corridors.

Do you hear their unspoken dialogue,
beneath the carpet of forgotten texts?
Shadows know the secrets they dare not tell.

In the absence of sound, we find the resonance,
a comforting loneliness woven in ink,
held captive by the realm of wordless sighs.

Glance left, turn right, and there lies another.
Each step, a choice unmade,
every pause, a whispered echo of what could be.

The shadow roams, unyielding in its passage,
across this digital landscape,
a companion in solitude, as old as memory.