Friday, September 28, 2012

HBH 304

The years all conspire,
Memories crouch like muggers.
Nostalgia's cudgel.


Is it having been here so long? Is it the decision to leave? Is it the not drinking? I don't know, but lately, as the reel of the last ten years plays endlessly in my head, I have often found myself getting quite moist-eyed.

Maybe it's regret and resentment and a sense of waste....


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