In the confines of a twilight shadow, where whispers are softer than touches, I found your echo. It lingers in the abandoned corridors of what we are yet to become, haunting every heartbeat, dreaming in stolen breaths.
The universe conspired with stars unseen, weaving a tapestry of silken desires and unuttered vows. Isn't it peculiar how galaxies spin with our stories, how time swirls in luminescent dances whenever our eyes meet?
Lover, our promises are molecules in constellations. They are as palpable as moonlit serenades, as ephemeral as autumn's last sigh. Can you hear the forgotten sonnet of our hearts that calls out from beyond dimensions?