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Nishant Rawat Aug 2020
Lately, I have been reminiscing a lot.
Of all the lame fights we fought.
Arguing for hours in a loop,
Never let it go.
I guess, we both had too much ego.
Or maybe we weren't right for each other.
Maybe we weren't meant to last forever.
But I still do think of you sometimes.
Whenever I look at that picture of you and mine.
Reminiscing
Aima Shahid Jun 2020
On days when your coffee leaves you sulking, staring wistfully into space,
When you reminisce on what you left behind
Don’t forget the days that left you feeling exhilarated
Like the way rain patters on the glass window and slides down to the pavement,
Sitting by the fireside on a cold winter evening, curling up into your favorite sweater,
Or the summer evenings watching the pink and orange tones as the sun sets over the horizon
Recollect all your treasured feelings that sit lopsided within.
Of all things that leave you ambivalent
Be sure to check out my account on Instagram @ofscribbledthoughts
jia Jun 2020
l
i liked how i opened you
from the depths within our small world
how i pushed you out of the blue
now, nothing is blurred

i adore how you speak with so little words
from the way you choose the phrases you tell
how one word from you i instanly get absurd
now, i realized, i have fell

i love how you remember the smallest of the things
from my strange fascinations to my ordinary repulsion
how you remind me of my often mood swings
now, everything's just a memory fraction

i liked how you opened me from my own
i adored how you can have such patient with me
i loved how you always get me in any tone
now, I'm letting you free.
to the person whose memory i try to hold on to, I'm letting you go.
Daisy Darling Jun 2020
I don't miss you
I miss the way you made me laugh
I miss the way you made me feel
I don't miss you

I don't miss you
I miss the feeling of being in love
I miss your kisses
I don't miss you

I don't miss you
I miss your hands around my waist
I miss your hand in mine
I don't miss you

I don't miss you
I miss us talking at 3 am
I miss your jokes
I don't miss you

I don't miss you
I miss the comfort you offered me
I miss your warmth
I don't miss you
I don't miss you. Or do I?
Francesca Rose May 2020
June is the soft smile of your best friend as you regale them with your tall tales about how the weekend went, and their sweet giggle as you eat cheap lollies from a shady ice cream van.

June is a spinning ferris wheel at dusk, overlooking a royal blue bay scattered with olive green tents, and your little cab on the wheel that you get into over and over again.

June is the crisp notes that you spend on thin, wispy clothes in high-street stores, and the novelty sunglasses you try on in an opticians and end up buying because they're cool.

June is the flavours of a spice-infused curry, and a large spoonful of rice afterwards to soothe the burn. It is the tall cup of fizzy cherryade that tastes like it did when you were 7, but a bit different.

June is rainbow-spotting with your friends, and being yourself, and maybe for once not feeling so alone in a world that's usually so cold.

June is flying the flag of the weirdos, and jumping up and down to rock music, and flinging open your windows dramatically in time to the soundtrack of a musical. It is 80s music so loud that you can already see the noise complaint, but the complaint never comes.

June is a month of discovery and talking about nothing for hours on end. June is about hope, and a dawn for something different. June is about having a dream, and having the power to make it come true, because no matter who you are, you deserve for your dream to come true.

June is your time, but only if you let it be so. Will you stand? I will be beside you. I love you, and I'm glad you exist.
Sharon Talbot May 2020
Stick my phone into the wall--
hoping no one trips on the cord.
No mobile phones in this dark age
and computers haven't come of age.
My TV has cable but the picture's curved.
Static makes it look so old
and my frozen dinner's gotten cold!
I shut it off and think: at least
I've got a huge stereo
with a dual tape deck.
Listening to New Wave
is much better than televised dreck.
Maybe someday they'll make it digital
but it won't be quite the same.
I'm as happy as a person can reasonably be
in the year 1983.
A kind of fond, snarky memory of times past...
Tori Alva May 2020
You dedicated it to me
Broke ideals on what good music was
My ears would never get tired of it
Heart beating to that unforgettable rhythm
the first word
Amanda Pringle Apr 2020
Brookyln Nine-Nine flashes across the screen of my laptop
I wonder if this show makes you  think about me

Because even the obnoxious theme song reminds me of

That oversized, purple couch I will never sit on again ,
The Christmas tree you hosted in your living room until March,
Or the pictures that your daughter drew, strung up on the wall next to the sign you bought reading
“You Are My Sunshine”

I wonder if you ever bought that gray sectional,
Or put the tree up extra early this year
Or moved that sign to your daughter’s bedroom door

Every cheesy one-liner Andy Samberg says
Leaves the words you left lonely
In the back of my head.

You were right, that night
When I drove south to a familiar nowhere
To see an open door with your lopsided grin.
You were right,
I think I did love you.

I promised myself I would not let the memory of you ruin this television show.

But I find it hard to watch,
I find it hard to think,
I find it hard to know that I must coincide with the inability to know
how you are
or who you are
Anymore.

Rumors tell me about the weight you’ve lost,
And how the speckled gray now covers nearly all of your freshly shaven head.

I know that your skin would not have slowed to wrinkle with mine,
but I cannot help but roam around the unknown of you and I.




Our episodes did not end
With a bittersweet goodbye or a tragic farewell,
The cliffhanger too skewed to draw conclusions from
A forgettable ending to a promising pilot.

We were not a series.
I did not make the finale.
Life is not a network sitcom
I cannot watch the scenes of your life that proceed without me

As much as I want,
Your existence didn’t cease when your credits rolled to me.
And with every memorable scene we did share,
I am thankful that it did not broadcast on NBC.
Paper Heart Poet Apr 2020
Queen on an old dime
Imprint of past time 
Empty emotions 
Acts of a fake mime 

When singing was living 
And dancing was playing
I’ve been all the art forms 
But now I’m all nothing 

I’m asked my profession
But not my real passion
I draw in the sand now 
To cry my confession 

Is denial a big crime 
The church bells they will chime 
For innocent souls 
Will they also ring for mine
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