In the twilight hours, where the stars meet the embrace of the moon,
silent symphonies are woven from whispers of forgotten love.
A caress of the wind carries tales untold,
tales of hearts entwined, speaking in the language of shadow and light.
Remember the night when we danced beneath constellations
that whispered secrets only the brave dare to keep?
Our laughter echoed through the cosmos,
a melody of two souls woven: a fugue of longing.
As I pen these words, your absence is a sonnet unplayed,
a crescendo that hangs in the air unseen,
yet profoundly felt. Each note a reminder,
each pause a brush of the hand across the path of dreams.
Follow the whisper, trace the echoes of our symphony;
find solace in the rhythm of the stars,
the endless embrace of the nocturnal tide.
In this mythos, we are always near,
dancing in the dusk of yesterday, dreaming of tomorrow's dawn.
For like the stars, our love is infinite, unspoken, radiant.