This night will join its past selves,
In restless mires of wakefulness,
For this endless funeral of past regrets.
Hours tick, marking my heartbreak,
In the deepening shadows
Of dark circles swallowing my eyes.
That framed splinter of a memory,
Is too blurred to reanimate buried time,
The girl laughing in the photograph is gone.
Unshed tears choke limp eyelashes,
Clinging to my graveyard of mistakes.
Nostalgia is a bittersweet drug.