Memories do not vanish.
They fold inward,
like petals closing at dusk,
until what once bloomed
becomes only a seed
buried beneath the soil of time.
At first, they are sharp
a laugh that lights dark rooms,
a voice alive in your bones,
a moment so vivid it feels immortal.
But even stone weathers,
even mountains bow
to the quiet persistence of wind.
Fading begins not with forgetting,
but with distortion...
a face shifting like water,
a voice echoing from far away.
Then one day, you realize
what you’re holding
is no longer truth,
only what time has left behind.
Forgetting is slow erosion.
First the colors fade,
then the weight of the moment,
until even grief grows pale,
like smoke rising from a fire
you no longer recall.
The cruelest part isn’t losing the memory,
but losing yourself inside it.
Because memories are not just events.....
they are who you were
when they happened.
And when they fade,
so does that version of you.
Yet there is mercy in the blur.
A faded memory proves
you once touched something too vast to hold.
So when only fragments remain...
a flicker of laughter,
a shadow of a face..
hold them gently.
For even when the world forgets,
the heart remembers
in a language time cannot erase. 🫀

There is a place inside me
where the world can’t reach—
and that is where I keep you.
Not in my hands,
because hands can let go.
Not in my mind,
because minds can forget.
But in the quiet room of my chest,
its walls built from every moment
you’ve ever made me feel seen.
If one day
you lose sight of yourself,
I will still know where you are.
I’ll open that room,
wrap you in the memories you’ve given me,
and place them gently back in your heart
until you remember
you have never been alone.
You never have to ask me to stay—
I was never planning to leave.
And even if time
took everything else from me,
I would still have you there,
safe in the one place
nothing can break. ❤️.