Nostalgia hits in the cafe with its kite-lifting winds.
Reading a letter, hands extend from the words on the
Page to tussle my hair, and slowly
Draw. A. Finger. Across. My. Chest.
It's the seduction from afar, that attraction
Of the past. The square block fits neatly
In its place when the toddler places it there.
That's the gentle call that becomes a scream
To be back in the days when pain was simply
The definition of love. Actually, gifting me with
Words I hadn't heard in sometime remind
Me of who I am, the line tied to the ground,
Refusing to let me fly away into the sky.
We tested dangerous thoughts back then.
It was horrible. It was sick. It was sadistic.
It was the best decision I've made
In my entire life.
No comments:
Post a Comment