As stars whispered tales upon the gloss of dusk, I wandered through corridors brimming with sound turned backwards—voices of violins and sonorous sighs melding into, perhaps, a ragged symphony of lovers yet known. Each step supposed upon cobblestone found its note scattered along the wind, but only fragments linger, only echoes now of your warmth.
The soul wallows amidst crystalline moments—once, we painted them florid against the pallid void. What was it, this cadence that spun sweet and adverse like treacle trapped within surrender's groove? Somewhere onward, beyond horizon’s shadow, truths spun the other way round; pain marinated in honeyed time spoke silently.
Should I find thee, within reach, yearning perpetuated reverse of ocean waves crashing upon shore unseen? Would this melody suffice in your direction answered? Let fate gather its tattered pages into scandalous lore—dispatch tales taut unto woven destiny instead.
Gaze here and consider paths once traversed into echoes anew:
Fading Fantasies | Sweet Dissonance