Chasing Love Letters Through The Void

It seems, I’ve spent my better days tangled in dreams, where your voice resonates as a symphony, your eyes the beams of a thousand sunsets, a canvas painted in hues of angst. You, a constellation I can never reach, stars shimmering in a sky not mine. I’ve traced your outline in forgotten shadows, whispered confessions of longing to the wind, hoping it would carry my heart to you. Even now, in unsettled silence, your absence roars, a lioness in the pit of my loins, devouring the light, leaving me weightless and hollow. Every word I speak is a hymn to you, a prayer cast into the abyss. You, the deity of my desires, etched in stoicism, an echo that journeys, but never returns. I've watched you from afar, a patron viewing silent films, your laughter, a melody that teases, your touch, a ghost haunting me from within. I am the gifted book you’ll never read, a borrowed story gathering dust on an empty shelf. I’ve written you in a thousand poems, each line chiseled from the stone of my soul, fragments now lost in the ether of time. Still, you are the comet blazing through my sky, too bright to hold, too fleeting to grasp. The barren field of unrequited love— a garden that never blooms, a river that fails to reach the sea. Though bent and weathered, I stand, resolutely, a shipwreck caught in your storm, desperately clinging to the hope of a rescue I know will never come. You are my beautiful disaster, my exquisite pain— a wound I tend with reverence knowing it will never heal, yet cherishing the ache. So here I remain, trapped behind a moon that yearns endlessly for the sun— doting over flickers of your light, destined to burn outside the circle of your brilliance, across timeless voids—chasing an eternal flame that still insists... you are mine.