Old lusts
And hurts
Come running
Back to the surface
With the sound
Of a voice
In an old song
From a different
Time
In my life-
Neither good
Nor bad.
An emotional
Scrapbook
Of music,
With yellowed
And tattered
Edges,
And faded images,
But the memories
Still vivid
With all the same colors,
Smells,
Feelings,
Longings,
And confusion.
I can still
See her
Eyes
And hear her
Voice,
Telling me
As awkwardly as she could
That “it’s over”-
The mole above her lip
Danced
As her lips moved
And my ears
Filled
With the white noise
Of rushing blood
And a broken heart.
So many years later,
And multiple marriages,
The memories of those teenage years and teenage music
Are renewed,
Even if only
Until the end of the song.
Timothy Vance Jackson
January 14, 2012
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