museum of memories

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Dear You,

If our moments were displayed into hallways,

I think I could walk through the same galleries,

Again and again,

And never tire of seeing the same muse,

Over and over.


In a room with bursting colours,

I would run past the greyscales we went through,

Together,

A whisper of forever between our cries,

Rainy skies.

Our arms hooked, never dropping.


I would stop and look at the strokes of nostalgia

Paintings of the walls we braved,

The floors we paced,

The tears we shed, from laughs or aches,

And the hearts we loved, the ones that broke

And healed while tending the other.


Dust dancing below the slanting star-lit ceilings.

Footsteps and late night conversations whispering.

Porcelain childhood delicacies, known to me as memories.

The shadows cantering in the dark corners.

Elusive canvases to hide forbidden secrets and tales.

The reflections of light on the broken mosaic tiles.


I know we'll take our flights

Like birds fleeing in the wind, wretched cursed fate,

But even when my sights aren't blessed by you

Just the memory of them, you'll still be alive

With not the beat of your heart but that of my own

And with each night, we'll feel less alone.


I've read somewhere, perhaps in my past elegies,

That the deepest, keenest I love you

Is when you hope they'll always be loved

By someone who treats them well

Even if it means

That it isn't you.


Well I'll be honest,

I hope I never get to lose you

I hope to always know you

And your sunshine-stained smiles when you see me

On dismal Monday mornings when the bell rings

Or on cosy Christmases where feelings are free.


But now I'm running down this hallway,

Because I don't know what to say.

When I look around and I'm lost,

I keep going back here and the worries we tossed,

Filling galleries with echoes of our laughters

And the halos in our forever afters.


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