Nostalgia

I look at a photo

the one that was filtered several times,

to make it seem like we had fun.

 

I breathe in spaces larger than black holes

hoping I can hear the sound of footsteps

before any steps taken.

 

It all seems too familiar at an arm’s length

a safe speed to be at

chasing and never catching.

 

I open the chest of memories

and push back the cobwebs.

It hasn’t been that late since,

since illusions seeped in through my cracks.

 

It hasn’t been that late since I sat in the park

and sat alone by the river.

It’s only a matter of time before a bell jingles close by

 

the nostalgia comes in lashing through a wave

and I feel happy at the thought of never being there again.

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