Backseat Dreaming

Pure Nostalgia Have you ever been torn between yourself and pure nostalgia, at it's finest? Is it the sweetest thing to know? Is it his brown skin? Is it his flow ? Or the flutter Of every word Delivered from him to you As cold water hitting your nude? Is it his style? Or is it the chill you get when eye contact is met Or is it all in your head ? You cannot sleep and simultaneously make your bed. Why are you aching for more pain you cannot tell yourself if he's worth your while you are indulged in his absent smile and you are taking your own worth in vain Why are you crying if he is a stranger? The energy and darkness puts your vulnerability in danger . You constantly build up your frustration and anger. You are a brick wall. He is a prophet in poetry and black suits him well. You are a flower on a wall scared to leave hell, you're not making sense and you're not leaving an imprint, so what are you doing? Suffering And it's senseless. By Imari Roberts