The walls breathe in silence, dripping with echoes of faded somewhere dreams,
an abandoned conversation hangs, drifting like vapor.
In every corner, whispers of unsent letters flutter,
stumbling into life, realigning the mere shadows of imagination.
A clock ticks backwards, counting stars from the void of an unseen sky.
Lost keys where night refracts, a spectrum spun from uncertainty.
Will you know it when you hear it? The laughter hidden in a teardrop.
Nothingness dismantles itself, revealing a pathway beneath the crushing weight of existence:
Card-files of memory stack higher than regret, sliding like whispers escaping the mouth of pretense.
Hover over one's thoughts, peel away the layers - pull them apart, float them away in unseen leaves.