The leisure centre, the first place you were yourself.
The first time I saw you for who you were.
The glow of the cheap pink lights against your face sent shivers down me.
I didn't know it would leave so quietly.
That same sign now run down and missing parts of itself.
Funny that, being here again, today it's almost the same, just more in vein.
I scuffed the halls, trying to remember why I came here in the first place.
Was it to reconnect with myself?
No, that can't be it.
Was it to remember myself?
No, definitely not myself.
We spent the night indoors.
Trapped inside that building trying to figure it all out.
It was like one of life's great questions.
Why did we even try?
I guess it was taken as a serious suggestion.
I know why I'm here.
I didn’t come to find her.
I know she’s not in this room with me.
Her ghost isn't up the wall, that was given up years ago.
I just wanted to stand where it happened.
Where, once, the lights were too bright, and everything felt like something more.
-
Author:
A piece of luggage (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 23rd, 2025 03:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments3
fine write
Identifying with a past memory can be a trigger that sets off old feelings and if these were good memories then the trigger may be sought out. Nice write
A lovely write around past memories having the ability to bring back different feelings and emotions, enjoyed the read
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.