MOVING ON

well its time to make friends
with
the
memories
that stab nameless nostalgia into my guts

they're 
gently drawn in sepia squares
or
drenched in old colours 
with
sweet
round corners 

time to play those avoided songs 
and lift them from out their cold street bottle shops
and
hot
afternoons
from
long ago

its not them that are are sad

it
was
me