In the parchment twilight, words whisper and wane, dancing on the precipice of dreams.
Your silhouette flickers like a candle behind the cloudy glass of memory's embrace.
Through the corridors of unwritten verse, a voice echoes—the heartbeat of old promises mingled with the scent of lavender and whispers of distant shores.
Paint the skies of absence with the hues of your laughter, and let the mist spell out the unrecited poems we shared beneath the fractured stars.
Sojourn in the fantastical, where love's lament becomes a crystallized echo, and truth sparkles like dew on the spider's serenade. Join the current.
The leaves speak in riddles, a language faintly recognized yet forever missed. Intangible are the words, yet their embrace is tightening with every passing eon. Listen to time.
Somewhere, in the folds of silence, an ember remembers your name, illuminating for a mere moment the tapestry woven from shadows and sinking stars. Chase the ember.