That fickle feeling nostalgia brings is an unwelcoming omen,
forever tarnishing my day with splats of gray ink.
How do you continually disturb me?
The flashes of your images, stolen from the facets of a time long gone
are the culprits that steal my numbness.
Your watercolor fingers splatter the sky
and the gloom of purple clouds cry out rain
that drench my soul with melancholia.
Memory is a bitch and the lashes on my heart are not healing.
Continually, the blood that loves you overflow
and the drowning of thoughts continue.
*Disclaimer: The title is from a blog I bumped into while Googling for a fitting title for this post.