Do you know what it is I want?
What it is that I wish upon?

I want to sit with her on a ledge overlooking the city as night falls, where the area begins to solemnly rely on beams of the tall street lights to keep things aglow.

There, she’ll tell me that she knows a place and to that place we’ll go.

I want to sit in the ghost rooms where I had lived

Just a bit aways, many would never return

Would the walls of the hollow rooms remember? Who lived is partially dead. A new born entering.

Foreign.

All I can see but nothing I can feel remains

Stay, why don’t you? I’m a series-length of a story

Maybe, only maybe the hollow within will refill to its nostalgia