Maybe this sky
i used to stare up for hours
doesn’t even exist anymore
and those stars dust within my lungs
never touched the moon.
Yet sometimes when the
memories are heavier than
the air coming out of my soul,
that light coming across the
cracks of my room seems
to me real than anything.

By Rim Zeiny

Read more texts by this author 

One Comment Add yours

  1. Lucarna says:

    Reblogged this on lucarna.


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