In the twilight whispers, where shadows intertwine with lost dreams, I found the relics of despair.
Cobwebs weave the narratives, fragments tumble forth, a ghostly choir calling...
Moments flicker like dying stars, and each breath taken is a universe collapsing.
Ah, the sepulchral light of forgotten halls, cradling echoes of laughter, and glimmers of autumn's decay, unfurling like dark wings.
Was it a promise, or merely a fleeting visage, swathed in the mists of memory?
The harrowing chill of the restless embrace lingers, a sweet torment wrapping itself in the marrow of your thoughts.
What of the bone-dust revelations?