The shelves are marked with fading tags,
each one priced in question marks.
A sweater holds a scent long gone,
and dreams too loose to put back on.
Unclaimed wishes gather in dust,
hopes exchanged for silent trust.
What we leave still hums inside
like songs unsold but never denied.
A book with margins underlined,
someone wants paused at every sign.
The vinyl skips where someone danced,
applause at glance,
a second chance.
Unclaimed wishes gather in dust,
hopes exchanged for silent trust.
What we leave still hums inside like songs unsold but never denied.
Memory fits like second skin,
a dream stitched into linen fold.
Still waits for someone else to hold,
not mine,
not yours,
but something true.
One's soft by passing through,
an angle of you out.
A dream stitched into linen fold.
Still waits for someone else to hold,
not mine,
not yours,
but something true.
One's soft by passing through,
an angle of you out.
The sheets will vanish just wait in line,
an angle of you out.
A vinyl skips where someone danced,
applause on glance,
a second chance.
Unclaimed wishes gather in dust,
hopes exchanged for silent trust.
What we leave still hums inside like songs unsold but never denied.
Some dreams don't vanish,
just wait in line,
and then...
Unclaimed wishes gather in dust,
hopes exchanged for silent trust.
What we leave still hums inside like songs unsold but never denied.
Some dreams don't vanish, just wait in line,
and then...