[of dreams and galaxies]

[-]

Here we are
In broken voices
Small cracked whispers
Of being something warm, something that leaves an imprint on your heart with words coming back from the sea,
With words that never leave us in the silence of a dead night,
I write because I don't know my history,
I write the words I keep forgetting
I write because on days I forget how to,
I write so my heart is used to these broken whispers,