He stood beneath the chandelier of stars, his voice carving light into the dark, every note a thread weaving dreams into the air, soft enough to make silence listen.

Wrapped in a coat of twilight, he sang like someone carrying both the weight of galaxies and the gentleness of dawn, a contradiction the night could never forget.

In that moment, he wasn’t a man on a stage; he was a storm wrapped in velvet, a poem disguised as a heartbeat, a flicker of eternity pretending to be human.

Nothing has changed, only the silence grew louder.

So, do I look like him?

I’m not single, I’m in a committed relationship with overthinking.

??

😟😟