In the silent shadows of our tangled style,
I found a glitter, a gleam, something unheard.
A digital smile on a screen so bright,
Yet beneath the surface, uncertainty awaits.

Your voice a beacon in the void of night,
I charted your affliction, your battles to fight.
As my word extended, delicate and bare,
Was it word that blossomed, or a burdened springe?

I tend to the fragments, pieces of you,
Wrapped in fondness-or is it a ruse or construed?
In prize, did I weave a thin guise,...