The night breathes heavily, yet there remains a cadence beneath the surface. Invisible strings hum, each a testament to tales unsung. These lines converge in silence, bridging distance with a phantom touch.
The walls, they listen. A pregnant pause filled with unuttered cries, woven into the very fabric of emptiness. Though no eyes see it, the heart knows. It understands the dance of shadows that thread through the blackened expanse.
In every heartbeat echoes a spectral presence. They linger by the threshold, daring to cross, daring to voice what shadows have claimed. Yet, only the darkness listens, cradling their syllables in a tender embrace that knows no dawn.