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




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