The weird thing with past is
The older it gets
More they stretch away from you,
In your imaginations away from details and thus the reality,
Some days you would imagine it all being good the present and some days,
Nostalgia will just hit you hard to absorb you back,
And now all you want is to go back and be there,

There in that strange lonely rain,
Alone among a random strange crowd and suddenly,
It all becomes suffocating,
And you hold a sigh of relief,
Thank God, it was just a memory,
Memory of life you once lived,
Strained into finer lines,

Slowly it clings, taking away all those blocks present offers you,
And suddenly there it is all pristine,
But you don’t belong there,
You got to move on,
Get up and go through that unfiltered present,
Sipping through the coffee or tearing up across the vent,

Days pass and still some day somehow,
There they are a baggage for you to be held,

Was it not better that there were those lovely memories,
Was it not good that those bad ones are already over
Why go over things, places, weird days,
When you can just live it through it all light headed,
With a simple thought
Towards the light, towards evenings
Channeling dusk and dawn towards that one thought
Moving on :)!!