The Unseen Whispers

I long for your touch, whispered the lonely armchair...

The leather creaked in agitation as its cushions sighed, longing for the indentations left by secrets shared late into the midnight confessions...

The desk, a silent custodian, craved the soft fingers grazed over it, inscribes tales untold.

Every scratched line over pine's surface bore witness to letters unsent and dreams unwrapped in the constellation of scribbled ink.

Discover the custodian's lament
Tangled stories merged in velveteen whispers confined within walls.

Crimson shadows tangled upon tangled whispers of loves left behind, the fabric's dye merely noting what oblivion's arms could not hold longingly enough.

Walls breathe memories of silk wrapped sighs and shared breakfasts with butterflies.

Shall you listen? Their intertwined tales, revealed to none but the morning sun stretching ever slowly beneath winter's mourning orange flare.