The walls of the rooms you used to haunt were a canvas I strived to erase. I trace my fingers down the corridors you used to roam ever so freely—reminiscing about the hours spent cleaning your fingerprints off the wall. I try to remake the same ones you created but it’s no use; no one can create such idyllic art. The room you take up in my mind feels overwhelmingly crowded despite your existence ceasing to exist.
2d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 11:25 PM UTC
The walls of the rooms you used to haunt were a canvas I strived to erase. I trace my fingers down the corridors you used to roam ever so freely—reminiscing about the hours spent cleaning your fingerprints off the wall. I try to remake the same ones you created but it’s no use; no one can create such idyllic art. The room you take up in my mind feels overwhelmingly crowded despite your existence ceasing to exist.
idk