A Story by Bill O. Writes

Simultaneously blessed and cursed with seeing her face on my screen.

   There must be a name for the phenomenon when a person's face resonates and sticks with us through our life. A face we may only see so many times but every new picture just takes you back. Something inside screams. Screams that you wish would subside. But those screams wish you both had a path that led you together in the end.

    My soul.
        My core. 
            These screams impossible to ignore.

    Nostalgia is just love in disguise, or is it the other way around? Who is this face now? 
        So far removed from the way I used to know it back then. 
            Is there a future or is it always a "when?"

    Is it appropriate to reach out? Would I just look insane? 
        Or are words better left unsaid because I, too, have changed?

    I will forever remain on the sidelines. I am the bones buried right in your backyard.
        But I will never be found so I'll take one last swig.
            Because you don't know, or don't care,
                to dig.

© 2020 Bill O. Writes

Author's Note

Bill O. Writes
Sometimes writing it out feels better, sometimes it doesn't. I think this will stick with me until the day I die.

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Added on November 19, 2020
Last Updated on November 19, 2020
Tags: love, nostalgia, prose, poem, pain, past, childhood, children, future, family, friend


Bill O. Writes
Bill O. Writes

New Haven, CT

-Bill -30 years old. -Seemingly only able to be serious about writing As for my writing background: I have been writing since I was about 17 but had no place to share. Feel free to read wha.. more..

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