Streets

It came again
They were like flashbacks but they only came once in a while
My hands feel weak now that they no longer have a grasp
I try to think of ways to makes sense of life and all its obscurities
But the harder I think the more lost I become and without a story
So I walked the lonely streets without a family and slowly became attached to them
Painting the faces of loved ones upon them and giving them love with each stroke
These empty walls no longer are blank with the mournful tears of walking souls, but filled with the memories of forgotten smiles and joyous events.
It came again
The flashbacks turned clear, as If looking at your self through water
My hands took a hold of yours; intertwining our fingers together
The life I tried to makes sense of no longer teases me with its blind spots
The streets have become my home
I have become the story with it’s illustrations all around me