When dusk embraces the horizon, and the stars begin their silent vigil, one cannot help but drift. Along the banks of time, where memories become dreams, and dreams, an enigmatic reality. I remember the touch of your hand, gentle and fleeting, like a wisp of smoke vanishing into the ether.
In the depths of your gaze, I find oceans—boundless, mysterious, yearning. A tide that pulls ceaselessly, cascading in waves of unspoken words. The world outside fades, leaving only the dance of our shared breaths, a rhythm as old as the cosmos itself.
Each moment, a droplet in the vast ocean of existence, each journey a path winding through shadows and light, leading us back to the essence we once shared. Touch not the past, for in its remnants lies the truth of our drifting souls.