Where have our moments gone, the ones we swore would stay with us forever, rich and raw?
The quiet joy, the sudden ache of loss, the laughter shared, the words that cut us deep.
Do they still live inside us, soft or scarred, or have they slowly faded, pale as light?
And if they vanished, who would we become — just hollow shells still drifting through the night?
What are we, then, without the weight we keep, the love, the grief, the memories we store?
Are we the sum of all we can’t forget, or ghosts still searching for what came before?
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