.
What I write in blue ink glows for a moment. The light dissipates my words.
I write in red. It turns out to be the colour of death, which attracts.
These letters, too, will gradually be killed by the sun.
My unwritten thoughts are more timeless. I engrave them on paper without moisture.
Fingers touch my soul. They listen to my heart.
You leave the door ajar, but the current carries everything away.
It's been like this for years. Why talk about what everyone already knows?
Everywhere and here you can't hold eternal love.
A verse in the darkness, written and left behind, lasts for a long time in the vault of the dark.
Faith and hope rest there in silence. Their wishes are printed in white.

They are the guardians of all that I miss.