The heart whispers in shadows, layering mysteries upon mysteries.
Each echoing beat a relayed longing, suspended in the twilight air. Do these romances pulse endlessly, like the shadow of a conundrum? Or are we simply relics, etched eternally in reverberations of emotion?
Desire drapes itself within the folds of night, a tapestry unraveling—a silken pain. The breaths desiring breaths, a looping serenade. Oh the eternal loop of silent cries, each more tender than the last, more adorned with stars' glistening sorrow.
In this hemiplegic embrace between reality and dream, how fervently do the waves of passion crest and fall...
Beneath the Quiet Symphony