Old Ways Won’t Open New Doors

In the black of night, under shut eyelids, I see you and I wonder what you are up to.

Blurred visions of our future, clear memories from the past and every moment shared between us unwind in a heaped mess.

All at once the peace of my mind is a ground for the impossible stories and inevitable fate to play out. 

As if they are true, as if they are live, as if they are present and they’re happening. 

They’re haunting and mesmerising together. 

Like the sand on a beach, the same sand in a desert. I want to enjoy it for as long as I can take it but I’m done with it so quickly because it’s starting to burn.

But just when I think I’ve cut you by the stem it turns out the root is still there. And although the fantasy of us keeps me up at night I’d much rather forget because there’s a saying that “old ways won’t open new doors”


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