I lived on the words you wrote me.  On my back at 2 a.m.

There are too many thoughts of recent, that fester within my mind
Ruminating over a chapter in life that has long been left behind
Stuck in a timeless cycle, stuck clinging inside my insides
Nostalgia washing up dangerous debris over and over on my memories tides

Peaceful from the outside but great explosions from within
A ticking time bomb of confusion appears to sink and settle in
Reminiscent of some past years, that I struggle to believe where even real
Left with an unpleasant echo, a hazy voice, a distant embrace that I still very much feel.

It has been one year this spring.
The flowers have resurfaced - everything is reborn.
I sit alone in a different country, at a different age, as a different me. And yet
I hear the ocean waves from another lifetime crashing in the wind.
Nostalgia has a cruel sense of humour.
Don't you think?

I have not forgotten how it felt to be reckless at 17 and alive
Purchasing the cheapest bottle of chemicals with the highest volume from that shabby 24 hour petrol station.

I have not forgotten how it felt to stay up until sunrise
Tresspassing in privately owned fields before phoning home to say goodnight and lying about sleepovers at well to do houses.

I have not forgotten how it felt to giddily kiss my best friend until we fell asleep
Only to realise he had fallen in love as the stars fell away and summers amber blaze crept up over the hill.

I have not forgotten the quite car journeys home
Driving away from those memories those summers and those friends  although they have all misplaced the colour of my eyes and the echoes of our laughs -

*I have not forgotten.

Together we create mass destruction -
Like tsunamis and hurricanes.
Maybe it's because I was conceived in a storm -
And your childhood was nothing but a tempest.
Yet my winds can be controlled, my stormy seas tamed -
But your earthquakes shake so violently and your volcanos ooze destruction.
No matter how hard I try the rage inside you continues burning -
all a blaze, fire and demolition.
I cannot help you this time -
I cannot save you from self obliteration.

You are the book I have read over and over
The book with the ripped pages, the cracked spine
I can't say I remember every word, sentence, or chapter
But I can still recall that final line.

I crave the howling gales battling my window pain
I dream of the burgundy leaves falling once again

I wish for the terrible rains their sound to send me to sleep
Autumn is fast approaching and I fall in love so deep

I adore the darkened mornings and even more the darker nights
I'll get excited for carving pumpkins and Halloween festive frights

And when the fun is over, by the log fire I will stay
With my favourite mug of hot cocoa, dreaming falls chilly nights away.