Memory Lane is a Dead End

Fold the pages

Close to the heart

 

Words echo

What once was

What could have been…

 

Creases stain

The perfect past

 

Whispering sensations,

Shadows and teardrops,

Condensate to vanish

 

Flickering in and out of reality

Keeping the bloodline fluid

 

Inside a dream

Dwells the soft pleasure of fate;

It is bulletproof.

 

Directions circumnavigate,

The mind plays its favorite trick

 

Winding up where storming eyes hide

Inside a familiar home

In the midst of life

 

Where blank pages are torn and

Lost, within unfulfilled

 

Reveries

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