I am not the kind of person who looks back, But sometimes the heart can beat too loud, It awakens buried memories, Turns them into lucid dreams, And haunts the mind with blurry images Of wrinkled eyes caused by a smile, Of red freckles and helmets crash, Of coffee cups and tattoos, Of sunny days and highways, Of maps and chatting apps, Of poetry and white bedsheets, Of night waves crashing on ukulele sounds,