the air redolent of childhood
nostalgia hits like a freight train,
my chest feels like it's being pulled
memories of that time flood back,
a broken dam of thought, an unstoppable force.
because nothing is that easy anymore.
nothing may ever be that simple again.
i am fickle with where i wish to be,
in the past or the present,
for the past is easy
but the present is hopeful,
remembering hurts, yet it makes me happy,
my paradoxical heart unable to choose.
the tightness feels alright sometimes.
i wish it were so tight
that it burst.