memories are ghosts that haunt at day.

they are the curtains, the walls, and the stairs. they are the inanimate objects at the office.

they echo the hearbeat, they imitate the kisses, they reimind of the old mornings.

how can these dead things seem alive.

why do they breathe the warmth that is missing?

they sit yet run after you. and it no use to hide for it is still the darkness that wraps the night.

and you cant fight them for they remain the same from the day you acquired them. they are unchangeable. only vulnerable to the drifting of the mind and the heart out of this world.

could i ask for it to take me away once agian?