Sounds rippling through the pavement,
images cracking across that one house,
feelings meandering past windows.

Berlin is a million heartbeats away –
the city without memories.

Untied shoes on broken walls,
prosaic texts on plastic phones,
rotten butterflies on shaky hands.

Stockholm is a memory away –
the city of a million heartbeats.

Scents fragmenting the gardens,
touches slivering that one front door,
heartaches blasting through keyholes.

Somewhere, without our heartbeats,
without our memories: home.

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