Is nostalgia just 
a good time 
memory kinda thing 
and if so 
then what are
those called that 
don’t make the 
cut but keep 
on coming back
and why is 
memory so selective 
and my mind
so very selfish 
when my vulnerable 
heart only wishes 
to forever forget 

When one finds 
genuine happiness within 
then the quiet 
becomes a comfort 
and silence is
no longer smothering 
and a smile 
returned is a
way of hello
and not a
desperate way out
and love breaks 
free and bubbles 
in its glee

The tears
I shed
for those 
who left
mean nothing 
for ghosts
nor smoke 
nor whisps
know density

When chill hangs
above like netting 
keeping out pests 
a cold morning 
does not invite 
one to rise 
but rather remain 
under the blanket 
and next to 
and in darkness 
play a game 
paper rock scissors 
to seem whom
will have to 
go and start 
opening the house 
whilst the other 
gets to stay 
cozy and warm 

I lake 
my sediment 
still deep
but bubbles 
up slowly 
or when 
stirred by
passing fish 
called memory 
only then 
will it 
disappear forever