I am nostalgic for that day,
even though it never existed.
In reality we were never there.
We never walked down that street under fluorescent lights. We never sat surrounded by bushes on that wrought iron bench.
Your hands never felt mine, our bodies never touched, and our eyes never did meet.
That day...
Those moments...
All those memories are fictitious.
Yet somehow, someway,
I still remain able to miss it.
AO Poetry 
This is the best one yet!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I appreciate it a lot!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
👏👏👏✍️excellent🌹🍀🫰
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
nostalgia doesn’t seem to be as good nowadays as it used to be…
-✧✦☆❖◈❋✤☆✦-∞-♡-∞-✦☆✤❋◈❖☆✦✧-
LikeLiked by 1 person
We tend to miss the path we didnt walk….besos al vacío desde el vacío
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes we do…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this poem!!!! 💚💚💚
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!!!
LikeLike
I absolutely love this. So evocative. Stunning 🖤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re always so welcome 😊🖤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Max Blagg said once “you fit…like an old lover come back for more”… and I knew immediately how he felt.
And the time Billy Bragg said “You said you could never imagine it happening, but it did.” 🩵
LikeLiked by 1 person