The night sighs with the weight of forgotten melodies, echoing across the expanse of stars.

Here, in the soft luminescence, I trace the feelings lurking in the absence, shadows of what was.

How do waves remember the touch of the moon without losing themselves, bit by bit to the sand?

Phantom limbs stretch toward times receding like the horizon—voyagers of memories adrift.

The sea beneath your feet and the sky within your eyes—a concept as elusive as breathing desires.

An incessant pull tells tales untold, trapped in rapture between silences.

Despite absence, the touch lingers; moods betray moments as embers stir unhopeful melancholy.

Stillness within chaos, wrapped in the language of whispers, speaks clearer than any condemnation would dare.