a touch lingers long after the body has forgotten how to hold it. between the red and the white, between flesh and ruin, something reaches across the dark with the fragile instinct to remain. the hands never meet, yet the space between them trembles with memory a quiet aftermath of devotion, grief, and the unbearable persistence of longing. one hand decays into bone while the other still opens itself in hope, as if absence itself could be touched one final time. BE, May, 2026 Procreate & Lightroom, 3000x3000px