What is this feeling that seems so foreign yet familiar?
As we head our own ways
down our own paths
maybe we will think to look back
but until then  
Let’s walk back to the fork in the road
and reminisce over everything we’ve seen,
over and over,


until we meet again.

I don’t know how we ended up here
The mountains and the crisp air
Something cliche about the atmosphere
Something I read in a poem in my notes somewhere
A feeling of contentment dances nearby
And infused with the oxygen we both breathe in

Let’s take a walk through my dreams
You see them speckled with hopes and memories
You’ll see they are broken and incomplete
You may even see behind the grey clouds
A hint of sunlight stringing beaded fascinations into things to wish for

It has thorns like roses
and solemn hues
the pinpricks from picking
these flowers have left maps on my hands
that I read when I am lost in the woods
by my childhood dreams

You know that feeling?
When you remember a moment
Restructured to fit what your emotions desire
And then it’s born
Out of empty space
Nostalgia, a blue flower

I’ve placed myself in debt
From borrowing the past
And now my headspace is always unclear
Regrets tied around my wrists
And the future, always slipping from my grasp
Runs ahead
Holding signs too far for me to read

Take a walk with me down my favourite street,
down memory lane
it’s still under construction
Memories built and renewed
I will tell you stories about foreign colours
so you can paint them onto bricks
placed by some past version
of myself

I don’t think I’ve lived enough life to be nostalgic

But I can’t shake this melancholy
Instead, I look back now that the journey is over,

Whatever the journey was
Sometimes it’s just a walk to the other side of the neighbourhood

Remembering and singing songs from a life I never lived