Oh, Nostalgia,
My dear old friend.
There you are, standing down the grocery store aisle, your eyes hovering by the cherries—like they could make me crawl back into your arms. Your sunken eyes urge me to go back, to run back into the illusion of a past that never was. Back to the silhouettes of ghosts dawdling along the walls of that old house, to the echoes of voices I can barely remember.
Nostalgia, I know why you’re here. But I am walking away. One step back, a sour smile, biting down the urge to let you move back home.
Nostalgia, I painted the walls red, coated them with glitter to fill color in all the places that felt drab. I dried my tears; drew the curtains you liked—untouched. Lit the candles you liked—unmarred. The light came in, sulking by the door before falling on everything in its path.
It touched me.
It’s safer from a distance, I think—this colossal, complicated matrimony of ours. Separate beds, different roofs, a hallway without your shadows.
You ruined me, Nostalgia...
You were coloring over the greys, covering the dark patches and blemishes as if daring them to disappear. Ignoring the pain, clinging to the glimpses—the brittle moments too minute to account for all that happened. You got too close, watched me drown, and yet you did nothing to save me. You poked a knife through my chest and let the blood pour out, in its unrelenting, sheer force.
You wanted me dead, didn’t you?
Perhaps I let you too close. I’ve never been the best at making the right decisions. Maybe I let you too close—so close that you forgot the pain. So close that you only recalled the flashes of happiness. The smiles during the storm. The breaks in between.
The beauty without its terror.
Nostalgia, I think you forgot about me...
I washed the mugs twice each day, wiping off the touches, erasing the poignant memories. I threw out everything that would make me remember—and there you were, in the clutter, standing down the road as you waved goodbye. Your tears, unnoticeable in the rain as you grieved what was.
I didn’t want to, but I had to.
Your feet, bare on the lone road, nowhere to go. Your fragments burning with the illusions you had created.
The skies turned grey, and the hallways were empty once again. The ghosts lingered only for a few days before moving down the block—to create fantasies that will haunt another lover.
At first, I thought you came to remind me that I had loved. Only, I came to love you more than I had ever loved before. Only, you went too far—to show me what I had lost, and in that loss, I lost myself.
You pick the cherry, hoping to remind me of the taste. A hollow smile crawls up to my lips, but then it’s gone. Your shoulders sag as I clear out my basket—lemons and kale.
I won’t carry you with me Nostalgia.
I’m sorry, but I have to leave you here.
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