There lies a murmur, encapsulated in rose-dipped whispers,
unspoken poetry between heartbeats.
Rivers of ink braid through silks of your thoughts,
weaving songs no mind dares to hum alone.
You are the marionette of the dawn,
tangled in starlight’s suffused glow.
My hands, unseen,
pull strings of passion's silent operetta
– where do you sleep tonight?
Across the sepulchral veil of time,
echo is an art unveiled by solstice winds.
Farewells dressed as tender greetings,
dance in shadows painted by the moon’s sigh.
Would these lips quake at utterance or remain a void of unsung destiny?
the answer lies cracked between lines,
each letter submerged in another universe's call.
Fleeting or
Silent—choose your whispers.