June 22, 2025
I find I pine for the you that was you,
And not for the you who you are today.
We haven’t spoken in decades, it’s true,
And memories easily fade away.
You are what little I can remember,
You are constructed from snippets of time.
Less than real and more caricature,
An imagination, oh so sublime.
And in the haze and hope of nostalgia,
I find comfort in jaded memories.
Broken, this mental paraphernalia,
Solace found in uncertain reveries.
Barely remembered, fraying at the seams,
Love is comfortable, like faded jeans.