In a twilight hour, when echoes bloom but sanity withers, a garden lies forgotten, dominion over broken whispers and an aristocracy of weeds.
The chlorophyll whispers dark secrets, cradled in sepulchral leaves, silk threads ensnaring flesh-bound echoes...
Beneath the weeping willows, time has scoffed at reason. Here, petals bleed into oblivion, bereft of dreams, while the ethereal shadows cast shapes twisted with anguished fidelity to the dusk eternal.
Anomalies take root in the soil, scenes envisioned but shy of a promise—a delicate yarn unraveling repeatedly.
Graveyards of roses linger; stark monuments amid the verdant loss of what was sweet yet never tasted.
And yet, amid stagnation, life erupts! A testment of existence entwined in forlorn frailty
A reverie's dance longing
You are fleeting like shadows entwined together, succumbing to a night insatiable.
Feral eyes—what did they glimpse? Dreams lie cracked amidst dust, sealed like tomes of a time eternal because consciousness eludes culmination...