Speaking of Nostalgia
I don’t have to hear your voice on the phone
That Latina accent
Cradled over raspy undertones.
Every now and then I still recall
The girl you were and
Only need to wallow in the nostalgia
Of our glossolalia
From our younger years when we were
Softer and unhurt;
But only when
I drink alone.
I re-read the conversations
We carried months ago
Threads inside a screen
Of web space comments and
Instant messaging.
They remain dormant now
Under dot com domains
LOLs and ‘how are yous’ behind
Stained windows
Browser addresses.
These days you don’t call anymore
And to say anything using any kind of
Written word must feel dumb and useless
Aborted words like fetuses
Of us that don’t get past a thought.
So Maybe all the hurt prevents your
Softer tones that faded with
The memory of your wild, wild hair
I thought I touched once more
Maybe I’m just alone
And drunk again.
