"Violet Whispers"
She stood under inflated lights… like a plan set to flicker, a silhouette carved by the glare of cameras, yet softer in your eyes.
I ask myself: what if we could shrink the space between our pulses, untether our names from public pages, and touch what only the heart knows?
You are not just photographed, you are written in light and shadow, a rare jewel in a sea of reflections.
They will say we loved in front of crowds, in headlines and façades. But I want the hush behind your breath, the pause where stars tremble and sigh.
In that silence, I’ll press my ear to your heart, count the tremors, trace the map of your sorrow and survival.
Let them whisper about permanence, about whether love can last under neon and rules. I will ask: “is it sin if it saved me?” Is it sin to worship you in secret spaces of the soul, to cultivate an energy that outlasts the flesh? We were never strangers, just two comets navigating gravity wanting to crash softer, to become each other’s twilight.
- Ang Oz
