Thursday, August 17, 2017, 22:07

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


burning nostalgia

Submitted: July 22, 2018

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Submitted: July 22, 2018

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Sometimes
The farthest parts of me can’t be measured
The fine details turns, sounds, and hanging particles of dust were traced by my loneliness

With myself in such a place for so long
The walls became my body
My presence became the soul
It's framework structured my life

And thinking back in grey
Like bare dreams which start with endings
I question,
How many times have I gone through?
How long did I breath in all that extra space?
Felt the sun drenched humidity expose me and make my hands sweat with shame?
How much time have I sat in silence with it?
It can’t possibly be real
When I took it apart
Shut the door
Let these truths rush through me as they dimmed into
Thoughts
Into
Time
Into...
Impossible

What would it mean to go back with nothing there to greet me?

Side effects
Sleepless nights
It’s where I bring myself to die
I’ve felt these things
Searching them out one day,
Forcing the timeline apart.
Keeping myself braced
Standing on the front lines
Of both sides.
"Besides,
Wouldn't this souless cage appear a corpse with my face?"
I sigh, not sure if I should walk away.


© Copyright 2019 M. Schang. All rights reserved.

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