In the dull glow of twilight, your voice wraps itself around the faded edges of my longing. Breathe deeply—the city exhales her secrets as the stars become distorted reflections of the truths we dare not claim.
Each whisper spirals away, golden memories dressed in shadows, pulling you back at the mere glance of the cold velvet sky, intertwining plasticity and the organic warmth of emotion—like a dream lost in the static of a radio:
“The distance between us is but a collection of harmonic consonants, intricately designed. I drink in this solitude, subtracting the noise from the murmurs of necrotic embrace.”
Perhaps, in another dimension—where the clock ticks with kindness, and silence tastes sweet—the ghosts of what could be resonate, woven threads connecting chaotic symphonies of a once tempestuous romance.