In the heart of the cavern, upon the altar of ephemeral flickers, truth lays its hand on the jugular. Surrounding whispers clasp tight to your essence, unraveling the tender tapestry woven with secrets that hold both beauty and terror. No flicker of candle can mask what the heart knows—yet still, it craves the luminescence of such desire even when reality bites.
Crystal shards reflect a forgotten tenderness, their icy fingers reaching for warmth. The walls, alive with rhythmic echoes, chant the ugliest verse. They tell you of loves lost and affections marred by time's envious passage. You listen as raw honesty blooms amidst stone, and for a moment, the wound is a beautiful sound.