Nostalgia | ✔

Paris

somedays
i hear the scratch
of my ever so old
hard and cold
vintage radio
as the sunlight
slants its way
from cover of night
into a new day
on the marble floor
through that open
wooden door

they often play
songs from the '80s
which are always mixed
with the same old
worth a pound
scratchy sound
that is so typical
of my hard and cold
oh ever so old
vintage radio

'n' there are moments
amidst glowin' sunlight
when i lift myself up
like a fragile lost kite
to raise my frail arms
like an insane drunkard
and slowly tap my feet
as the beats grow
loud and hard
befriended with the
same old scratch
that's so typical of
my hard and cold
vintage radio

oh i am all alone
darlin' you're gone
and no one's watchin'
my intoxicated
ever so lowly rated
drunken swirls
in sunlit alleys
'n' shimmerin' pearls
of our faded past
that plays everyday
in the same old
never so bound
scratchy sound
that's so typical of
my hard and cold
vintage radio

and no one's there
to make fun of these
borin' repetitions
that i'm so fond of
kissing again 'n' again
again 'n' again
for i'm stuck in a
repetitive cycle
of loss and gain
that cheats on me
and never gives me
my part of gain
for i lost you
in the wreckage
of a heavy steam engine
of an old chugging train
that i can never forget
for it keeps knockin'
slow and consistent
on the scars of my brain
again 'n' again
again 'n' again

nonetheless
i close my sleep deprived
never revived
drunken eyelids
and swirl to the beats
of songs from the '80s
which are always mixed
with the same old
worth a pound
scratchy sound
that is so typical
of my hard and cold
oh ever so old
vintage radio

because this is all i have
left of your soul
as i twirl in intoxication
and shut down reality
in wanderin' fascination
with raised frail arms
'n' echo of tappin' feet
for i am a drunkard
'n' i dance on my terrace
because i can see
in the middle of my
carefully woven fantasy
that oh darlin'
this time we're gonna
make it to paris

Author's Note

He lost her in a train accident on their way to Paris. Now he keeps listening to the songs from the '80s like they used to listen together when she was alive and right in the middle of this intoxication, when he shuts down reality, he is kissed by the illusion that maybe this time...
.
.
.
they'll make it to Paris. :(

Much Love xX
Hazel *-*