remembering
old days
of music
of songs
of verses
echoing
through cool
through dark
through aged
hallways
and how
i wanted
you
to hold
my hand
and how
i wanted –
was willing –
to wait
a lonely
lifetime
across the
universe
for a
love
i could
call my
own;
for a
love
who could
love me
back.
but
those days
are gone
and i
follow
a new
path
and i
seek
my own
star
and find
i no
longer
pine away
so keenly.
i now
spend
my days
spinning tales
into flesh
and blood,
into gold
to line
empty pockets,
into truths
undeniable.
and while
the sting
the ache
the pain
has lessened
over time
it lingers
and i
feel it
whenever
the old
songs
start to
play –
and still,
alas,
miss you.
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