I held on tight
clinging to the
bits and pieces
of memory
like a broken
record player

the melodies
slowly slipped
through my
trembling fingers

"Please don't stop"
I whispered
"Please don't go"
nostalgia is a dangerous thing, and its memories must be handled with caution
Hands in the air
disappear into the lights.
This room is full of innocence and rush.
Lover, I am the one to take this slow,
Lover, you are the one dancing until the next birthday.
I know there is nothing wrong with that,
but let's not get caught up in these party lights
and focus on the moon, she shines so bright.
She is a friend of ours.

Late to the party but that didn't stop us from celebrating.
Every night we find a new beginning,
to find a way to see each other again soon.
We were young, and spinning, forever free.
Every Saturday getting lost in wild fantasies.

Now I know you're hooked on the feeling of getting older,
but learn to love your youth.
No I know you're hooked on the feeling of attention,
but promise me to not find a new beginning without me.

As the seasons changed my location,
I find I can still feel the beats from the parties,
but they are fading as I stumble home with the moon.
The rush has you wrapped in her arms
and I am left with innocence.
I am finding grace in these passing years
but you seem to be still caught up in the lights of a different party.

I've enjoyed my nights,
but when we are sober
I'll bee the one picking up the empty glasses.
This is slowly becoming a little too much for me.
You tell me that we still stand under the same stars,
but when was the last time you found beauty in the moon.

I know I am not one to enjoy getting older,
but I must learn to accept my youth as something from the past now.
Because this party ended months ago,
and every Saturday I still imagine the nights.
We were young, forever, and on fire.
Never would I imagine those party lights
to shine brighter then the moon.
She is a stranger to us now.
About an old friendship that I can feel fading
R 18h
A bittersweet ache
Drowning in past memories
What a bleak longing
I haven't written in so long, it feels different.
There's a Route 22 near you.
A licorice asphalt road,
Twisting as opposing currents of time,
With anticipation and apprehension,
From home, to unknowns,
From comfort to expectations.
A rural ribbon of signage,
And milestones.

I traveled mine yesterday,
In an overdue Spring day,
From Melrose to Bright's Grove.
I writhe and bend with its winding,
Former times arise like heat waves;
Mirage puddles flood my head,
Always just out of reach.

I recalled hitchhiking through Warwick,
As I backtrack,
And almost stop
For one todayy on the curve
Where they sell the garden gnomes.
I once looked wryly at them
When I stood across the road,
With thumb up.

Sprawling upright over the northern landscape,
Towards the Co-ops of Arkona,
And the beer store in Thedford,
Wind farms thrive like techno giants,
In someone's Utopian world.

Bloody Mary's red sign no longer hangs
Outside the white house in Lobo,
Where she could bring you into touch
With your dead.
Poplar Hill's trees no longer snow in the summer,
The water wheels are seized, barns are exposed.
The lofts and the lofty fallen.

I had to stop near a culvert, to listen to the sound of run-off,
The melt reflecting the transition under the sun,
Converging at Black Creek, Pulse Creek, or Cow Creek,
Carrying forward to the St. Clair River and Lake Huron,
Then on to foreign shores.

Weathered iron fences enclose pioneer graves;
Settlers who cleared the dense Lambton forests,
And made the first ruts along my route
With wagons and cabbages.
I know very well how you fared,
And I thank you for my journey.
Warwick: In Canada, we pronounce the second "w".
Alexa 1d
there's something about
old, repressed memories
that makes them want to emerge
from our bodies, minds, and souls.

if you're brave enough, go ahead.
open a scrapbook, a photo album,
play those old songs you listened to as a kid,
do things because you want to remember.
i had the courage to look through old things. lots of tears.
You said you did the best you could
You said you did this for me
You know you did it for yourself
We know you did it for yourself

I know you've let the nostalgia color your view
In time the past becomes a myth with a brighter hue
You still have no answers after all these years
If you were never in love why did you stay so long

I can't believe the words you speak now
Through a rose-tinted filter
You celebrated the severing of something sacred
There are two sides to every story
Long ago I realized neither side was true
I'd have to find my own way
Find my own way without you

I buried this and let it go
But when you talk like that it's hard to leave it where it is
Because it's still waiting for me there
Still warm to the touch
Still reeking of sin
resting by the door
the bittersweet memory
ruffles at every wind
of nonchalance

breathes the nostalgic
in the canopy of peace
my childhood self
assumes the form of a
and her vengeful spirit wails.

leant against ears of whom were once peers,
whisp'ring "truths" time has long nullified;
playing hide-and-seek in bathroom mirrors...
a malevolent cherub at night.

thou shalt not kill.
thou shalt not kill.
but betraying Him is inevitable
if i truly want Her gone.

nostalgia rots my stomach--God!
i raise up the bargain of
stinging plastic skipping ropes,
those glorified old disney shows

and ever-mortal 'innocence'
if only to erase the evidence
of a girl that wasn't truly me
and pardon her crimes against dignity...

judgement day
is everyday
when shackled
to childhood sin.
would she hate me more than i hate her?
I’m 14 and it’s my freshman year and I’m so scared the rest of my life is gonna feel like this.
I’m 16 and I’m driving by myself for the first time and it takes everything in me not to just keep driving.
I’m 18 and I’m finally walking across the stage and all I can think of is how I look on the screen.
I’m 20 and I go to the carnival with my friends and I hope the rest of my life is gonna feel like this.
wow finally one that isnt abt my sad love life lol
MdAsadullah Mar 15
Jittery blood in my veins.
Violently pulsating heart.
Anxious thoughts jam-packed.
Will my head rip apart?

Smile miles away from lips.
Big vaccum in my chest.
Weak body much exhausted.
Fragile brain is so stressed.

Eyes holding sudden flood.
Echoes of familiar sound.
Scenes of past flash by.
Nostalgic vibes all around.

I am not me, I am not me.
What has happened to me?
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