and it never goes out

words take his shape

the voice melts into his figure

just a little while ago

this oath had no colour

blind, picturing his image

pieces too tiny to hold

words won't be glued together

the trace of a light that did go out

They fed us on little white lies

She was looking at nothing. Eyes lost on the infinite shapes of the wall. Her mind wandering in the least favourite place of her brain. 
Suddenly, a cold breeze kissed her cheeks and nose, uncovered by the duvet, waking her up from the slumber. She grinned at a memory.

"When I was a kid I used to spend hours looking at it. I could see anything."

"It?"

"The wall. I could picture a thousand different images. The whole world fitted in my room."

"Not anymore?"

"And my eyes were always opened. Imagine what I could see when they were closed".

"What was your favourite thing to imagine?"

"But it's like if the gaps were now filling themselves with existing images, my own memories blocking the path".

"Do you miss it?"

She faced her again and gently touched her lips. She knew she had been broken before.

"It's a fading feeling. Only a distant ache for something you could never truly grasp."