pale lips scintillating.
like the tints, tones and shades of dusk.
euphonious breaths watered by glances unseen,
those were the hues of our blether,
did not escape the sky's notice clean,
fathoming the value of every second spent together.
umbrella of themes leading to earnest conversations between theatrical soulmates,
tales of concealed passions,
when no promises were being constructed.
inconstant silence formed ethereal walls.
the walls that feel like home; unobstructed.
we belong to this oasis of insanity.
to never crossing the threshold of this zone.
to every vivid chasm sketched by us.
to painting secrets having an imperfect undertone. - Isha
