
But then—strange shift, nights feel empty.
Curtains close earlier, balconies go still.
No poses, no glances, nothing like before.
Binoculars show nothing but drawn blinds.
Your sightings grow thin.
You wonder—did you break the view?










But then—strange shift, nights feel empty.
Curtains close earlier, balconies go still.
No poses, no glances, nothing like before.
Binoculars show nothing but drawn blinds.
Your sightings grow thin.
You wonder—did you break the view?