In the soft caress of twilight, the mirror murmurs—a tender kiss of absence. Do you see them? The whispers of your shadow dance, weaving through the strands of memory. Here lie the fragments of once-roses, petals scattered by moonlight's gentle breath.
How the glass holds us captive, both angel and apparition, bound by the gravity of the heart's silent song. Could we ever learn to unlace the stars caught in your gaze? Or is longing our eternal echo?
Beyond the glass, a door softly creaks open, inviting you to linger a little longer. Listen to the serenade of your own reflection, unspoken yet vivid.
Embrace the whispers with open arms; they carry the scent of yesterday's dreams. Find peace in their haunting rhythm. Remember, every glance tells a story, a forgotten sonnet.