looking through your old things, its hard to explain, the nostalgia I feel, intensely
for something I didn't know, didn't feel
The memories aren't mine
but I feel them so deeply
why did I dream you had passed? Is it because we didn't have a real communication that didn't know what it needed, wanted, felt? My cousin, do I need to stop forgetting to remember you?
I know the weight of my exhausted mind was collapsed
Collecting dots of rain on a window pane
Meshing the paint, mashing your pain
Collection of the worst things,
Is coming back to Saint Louis
Like reducing, diving into the too deep well, reducing into a flat paradise that seems so immense
The most sweetheart memory of such a terrible youth, rich and full of life, full of potato latkes & salt & loss
Love that dreamed of more than it could be
I'm emptied out
Moving forward or back, it feels like hell
I'm emptied out with a full heart
The deepest despair, all the most expensive sort of love, it costs more than I have yet I want it for you,
For everyone and anyone and no one
The loss feels like a overripe gland, full of tension and all the colors of the universe, leaking, smoking like a hot river in the mid-day heat
The sun beating down, pulsing, hating, roasting
I'm
Emptied
Out
About the Creator
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Comments (4)
"The loss feels like a overripe gland". I especially loved that line so much. Your poem was so intense and poignant!
It is tough.
Nostalgia is something that is good but at the same time it's bad too But you made it
This was amazing. Down to the form, it completely exemplifies the power of nostalgia, both good and bad. So good.