lost (in translation) We dream of musty horse carriage goodbyes of the princes (but cover our ears so we never hear the departure). But still, you make footprints on my atlas as you walk in circles between lost bookshelves, familiar bedcovers and cross the stage over weeks and years, in detour over and over again. But the whisper of dreams never ends. So I'll etch the ghost of fluttering farewells in heartscript which you left in my lips' acquaintance, for you to uncode, unravel and speak (for) me till the day we meet again.
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