In my memories
there is no moon.
No sky.
Only emotion —
and a silence,
Soft as breath.
I don't remember
the shape of the buildings,
or the little things I left around the room —
not even the hurried faces in the hallway.
But I remember their laughter.
I remember the peace:
a stillness that asked for nothing
and gave everything.
Strangely, the sky I keep is a golden sunset,
spilling through the windows —
soft and warm, as if time forgot to move.
That light braided itself into my thoughts,
lacing the days with yellow color.
Now the colors have thinned for me, faded at the edges—
but the sun still leans over the places I am no longer part of.
Isn't it strange, that the only thing I truly remember,
is the sun — and the way it felt on my skin?
That the rest has become shadows and lost names?
But I must not forget,
In memories is where,
I will have to cherish them.