"Through the winding corridors and transitory dreams, I found an essence
that spoke not from lips but from the quiet sigh of ages—the kind that haunts
your most cherished memories."
Upon the shelves of antiquity, where not even the dust settles anymore,
lay a forgotten love—neither spoken nor seen. It lingers between worlds,
twirling like phantoms in a gentle void.
"Sometimes, my heart trades beats with shadows,
hidden in realms unexamined, only glimpsed
by the spectral light of your gaze."
The stories etched in whispers of mist, in voices barely heard—
once coupling with the wind's embrace, now gliding silently, spectral and unseen.
His name, a spark along the twilight,
woven through an unseen tapestry; the echos embrace
the language of a dark spiral, twisting softly,
circling the unseen intangible.