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-A 1d
Sometimes you have to give people up
Sometimes the ones you most love

Life gives us countless infinities
Some of which should only be

Memories left revisited

Sometimes On a Sunday evening
Lying in bed
The smell of vanilla candles fogging up the room
Book in hand

A certain sentence which suddenly relates
A certain feeling that overwhelms
A moment of nostalgia stirs
within your deepest of thoughts.

And you linger on the happiest moments

The naked nights spent snuggled up
On unfamiliar beds
In unknown places
As fires roared between the sheets

The days spent sick
On your late granny's
leather couch

enjoying your mother's famous soup
on the coldest evenings
in your one bedroom apartment

The laughs
And deep conversations

And nights we kissed
over empty bottles
just us two
Slow dancing in the kitchen
In the background glooms
That one stupid tune

Late night showers
Getting soap in your eye

That lead to

early morning coffee in bed
ciggarettes lit
Sleep still in eye

And as I wander within this infinity
this beautiful, timeless instance
I am entirely and sincerely thankful for
the story
the memories
that are ours

I
At one point or another
Remember to close the book
After the final chapter has been read

To meet my new reality
One which
The universe have contemplated
And calculated
To find me
Eloisa 4d
Sometimes the simplest of things spark memories.
Memories of great importance in our lives.
Every moment and each event in our past planted something important in our soul.
My eyes still weep for
those memories lost to a
warm and distant past

7:22 PM
16/10/19
Three years already?
Ha!
Where did all
that time go?
And why do I feel so
empty?
Donovan Oct 10
Don’t turn over that photo.
That window into brighter days,
steps as light as air,
and storm clouds easily brushed away.

Don’t turn over that photo.
That reflection of wasted potential,
reminder of love doomed
to fester and rot, a once
sweet fruit carelessly strewn aside.

Don’t turn over that photo.
Tear it to bits, burn it to ashes,
anything to prevent its siren
wail from shriveling any scrap
of happiness still clinging to life.
I have a love/hate relationship with nostalgia.
effie ebbtide Oct 10
oh LCD night! the incandescent yesterday
is burning to the touch--
my cathode-ray tube dreams, once switched off,
leave a film of electricty that leaves a shock on your finger
whenever you touch the doorknob.

the streetlights turn off when i step under them
and only when i look to them they glow.
i must have passed by this light a thousand times
and not once did i stop and think of it as anything
but a dim, yellowed, moth-ridden reminder
of the departed souls of roadkill
underneath.

how many secrets are hidden beneath this concrete?
how much bubbling rage does gravel conceal?
remember
S Smoothie Oct 8
She recognized him by touch and heat
a sudden rise and wince,
a memory bitter sweet
When he played his beat upon her heart
her soul fell into pieces at her feet
called from her depths
pain washed through her as she wept
rising under feminine heat
the ghost of love remained
torture in vain, nothing to gain
the pieces of her soul fell to his beat
like the tapping of the sweet rain
only memories remain
Sometimes it’s just not over. Ever!
Kafka Joint Oct 6
That is not
What I thought
It would be,
It would be.
the Terror Oct 5
become immovable,
a wall of unimaginable strength
too tall to see over and
too wide to walk around.
become undeniable;
do not mewl,
howl.
become so vast you cannot be looked past, shoulders so broad you cannot be held with one arm.
do not drown yourself in the tide of a man who would not **** on you if you were burning.
cultivate a culture of talking back. cornering. countering.
refusing and defying.
become unwavering.
become brave.
become angry.
become loud.
not because you are bitter but because you deserve the things you've been denied.
become immovable.
reposted w/ minor edit
Débijonne Oct 5
The nostalgia's been annihilating.
My heart hasn't stopped longing, my chest palpitating,
upon coming across old songs and movies
which remind me of good times of the past.
But in a way, I kind of understand.
I've always been scared of the future—
for I never see myself in them.
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