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Good Old Days

13 Mar

good

The good ole days. I am not old enough to use the term per se..but nostalgia doesn’t really care for age, does it? And when i hear your voice, i can’t help but go back in time. Look at me trip over my past. Wipe the look of disgust off your monkey face numbskull, it happens to the best of us. Judge me when you are perfect. Well, i read the phrase somewhere and i’ve been aching to use it.

Then your face comes to mind. And the movies. And the coffee. Always black. Six sugars. And the novels. And poems. It started with the poems. It ended with them too. Then we didn’t talk. Just miscommunicated our intentions in well-crafted poems that really had no truth. Others were true. The ones that held no meaning drove us apart. That’s what happens when tornadoes and hurricanes try to have a talk. That’s what happens when pride and ego try to dance together. That’s what happens when you come in on your high-horse and i can’t take off my straight-jacket.

But we never learn, do we? Every time i hear your voice, i am taken back in time. And you were different. You were.In a good way. I was in another world with you. Looking back i’m tickled. You were not the outgoing type. And i was a party animal. I preferred the sin now, repent later philosophy where parties were concerned. I just couldn’t quit it.

But with you it was movies and books. Poker and coffee. And music. Hip hop. I hated Eminem and you constantly blasted his songs knowing they pissed me off. Sincerely the guy needs to get a fucking therapist.

And then you. You and your laugh. You and your high-pitched squeal. You and your shouting. Well,only you can be so loud and still come off sounding adorable. You and you short skirts and bareback tops. You never really cared what you wore. Yet you managed to always look stunning in whatever you put on. Maybe i was too infatuated to notice if you looked bad though. I can’t be sure.
You were the party freak. And a sucker for movies. I remember us watching late into the night even on days we had exams. Aah, you and your wonderful cooking. We always managed to be raving hungry so early in the morning. And on the nights we got drunk, we’d wake up to brunch.

The good old days. Yeah. They were good. And not so old. The line evokes a cocktail of emotions in my dark, twisted soul. It’s sunny. Then it’s dark. It’s rainbows. Then it fucking rains unendingly. It’s happiness. Then i want to hurl my heart on the wall. It’s desire. Then lust. It’s love. Then wonder. It’s wishes. Then regrets.

Oh the good old days.

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1 Comment

Posted by on March 13, 2015 in Muse, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

 

Tags: , , , ,

One response to “Good Old Days

  1. Carole

    November 6, 2016 at 10:33 pm

    Reblogged this on Be Uncommon.

    Like

     

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