In the garden of forgotten dreams, petals shimmer with the echo of shadows long submerged, intertwining destinies entwined in laughter's embrace, whilst the glimmer of countless stars fades to apprehension.
Here, time swirls in a melancholic dance, where each mournful tick of clockwork descends upon a realm untouched by lustrous gleams of dawn, vaporous sighs vibrate in whispers, spinning tales of bilious truths.
Amongst the flickering candles, a clandestine doorway opens, adorned with secrets shed beneath melancholic moons—each sigh a sonnet of whispers, waking specters in eternal solitude.
Through portals of silent reminiscence, walk the ivory path leading to nowhere yet everywhere—upturned cups overflowing with haunting thrills and murmured entreaties unto the oblivion slumbering in stardust.
To linger where colors bleed into themselves, to sip the air of forgotten mornings; let your soul be a feather caught in a storm wrapped in the rapture of ecstasy and decay, await the ebbing tides as they weave their stories.