dark velvet curtains chant softly in the cool whispering breeze, where suns weave shadows in the silk of your voice — a ballad for the storm stirring beneath whispered horizons, silken sheets whispering lost time, the ribbons we unravel turn into threads of night, braiding melodies on ephemeral winds.
Is it the caress of autumn rain confessional on the eaves of newer memories, or the footsteps that linger beyond the mortal realm, stark silence dressed in golden echoes? You and I become one in this endless afternoon dream, rapturous and yearning, a cascade of unspun reality.
Let desolation carve out realms in us only shadows could unveil, blurring edges till ash mixes with longing, a lustrous hall found empty, resonating in whispers back again, filled with crescendos, momentarily alive by moonlit embers. Will echoes ever cease to be?
The velvet curtain now diaphanous, inviting the dusk — come closer, breathe gentle in the midnight air. Wake with me in reverie once more…