In the hollow embrace of absence, I trace the ephemeral outlines of your fingers dancing upon my skin, gliding as if they were the shadows of dreams no longer tangible. Each sensation echoes in silence, a faint reminder of your presence, lingering like the scent of an unsent letter perfumed by ghostly longing.
Your voice, a melody woven into the fabric of my solitude, speaks from the essence of starlit murmurs. It wraps around my fractured heart, knitting us together in this ethereal dance, where the moon blushes at the mingling of our essences—weightless, unbound.
Do you feel it too, my sanctuary? The bittersweet caress of a love story written in whispers and sighs, etched into the marrow of our separate realities? There's a solace here, a refuge where each heartbeat is a line in our endless prose, a chapter of longing punctuated by the silence of what could have been.