Take a walk with me down my favourite street,
down memory lane
it’s still under construction
Memories built and renewed
I will tell you stories about foreign colours
so you can paint them onto bricks
placed by some past version
of myself

I don’t think I’ve lived enough life to be nostalgic

But I can’t shake this melancholy
Instead, I look back now that the journey is over,

Whatever the journey was
Sometimes it’s just a walk to the other side of the neighbourhood

Remembering and singing songs from a life I never lived

With the sun invested in your patience,
You get so cold when you are breaking
So silence and I exchange nonsensical chats
as silence waits to draw the curtains
and I wait for you to handover your ache
to my extended hand

You take flights on paper planes
on September nights to escape the rain
love sits beside you
and so does pain  
in their hands, feelings from June
and they sit there waiting  
to take you to the moon

Where did the sunlight go
that we used to lace between the
gaps in our fingers?

Remember how we would make threads
from the light and tie them to our
hopes to string them along as we'd navigate
our childhood dreams?

Do you, too, like to stare at the moon,
chandeliers and *** lights?
when your eyes feel
like they belong to a sculpture
stuck in place, tunnel vision
Do you, too, make moonlight out of street lamps,
and use dreams to feed the craving
of meaningful existence?

Pictures of you: saturated. In motion blur.
we cast nets into the ocean of lights
to catch flames and fireballs
that ignite to the sound of rain
and resist their inherent nature
to extinguish
and so do you,
in rebellion