untitled

Nostalgia crowds my soul like so much humidity,
it relentlessly clings.

It won't be rinsed away by so many tears,
they simply sting.

Initial desipience breaks
into my personal flotsam and jetsam,
a littering sunder.

Their wreckage faults gleaming for all to see,
leaving few to wonder.

Which is just was well,
so much is lost in translation.