A thousand breaths whispered in the night,
tracing elusive constellations in your veins,
each star a secret yearning, inscribed
on the skin of the universe — your skin, my muse.
Yet, here I stand, a lunatic with a heart ablaze,
confessing to moments untamed, untold.
Wrapped in shadows spilled by a waning moon,
I trace paths of silver on the horizon, wild and untamed.
From the depths of madness:
"Oh to taste the electric flutter,
a touch of nebula on your lips,
entangled in waking dreams,
unheard voices sing of truth in ruin..."
The Masked Phantoms,
they jive beyond the candle-draped silence,
their eyes — mirrors capturing hearts adrift.
Dance with these shadows, they implore,
a sylph among sylphs, in misty masquerade.
Cross the chasm of forgotten amore,
follow the threads of velvet hearts unraveling —
spins the wheel of desire,
in lands where dreams seldom die,
linger in this fragrant indiscretion,
refusing the silence of a thousand unturned pages.