Breathing Memory

Inside a broken lightbulb, memory breathes,
a whisper of memories swells, glass that is silent and waits.
The filament, relit by a breath, beats softly with time,
and the small light grazes the skin of silence.
Lighting stars among peeling walls,
the room expands like an improvised sky.
Every crack tells a voice, every writing illuminates,
and memory still breathes, fragile and lucid, in the corners.