Memory Walls

There is a game the world plays.
It keeps me up at night and alters my breath.
The walls playback memories,
that rush my head with misted concrete.
A place I befriended long ago.
My heart would once vibrate ground, to the echo of your voice.
My skin would pulse, each time you brushed by.
Those were days when your touch meant something,
and your words did not.
Days when my ignorance played a greater role,
than doing the right thing.
I was different then,
but so much the same.
I wish for a day that when I revert to darkness,
it doesn’t spell out your name.
Then I will know,
I have finally grown.

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