You are the living ink of my story,
a word that is written without being spoken,
the page that burns when it awakens
my chest with its fleeting mark.
In every whisper, in every glance,
I find you drawing yourself among the shadows,
like a verse lost at dawn,
an echo that collapses in my soul.
You are the river that flows through my veins,
the melody that intoxicates the silence,
a flame that burns in my chains,
a dream that awakens in the moment.
You are the art that gives life to paper,
the narrative that never ends,
an eternal verse, a dawn,
a gaze that embraces the universe.