In the twilight, your voice echoes, as if carried by some invisible current, brushing against the edges of reality. We dance in the glow of stars not yet born, an eternal waltz on the edge of an astral sea.
A longing pulls at my heart, a force unnamed, weaving between dimensions, every pulse a ripple through both time and space. Your gaze pierces the veil, a lighthouse guiding my drifting soul home.
Yet, I stand here, detached, a specter of the cosmos, your amorphous lover adrift in this indigo dream. Each whisper is a memory unwritten, a silhouette against the fading light.