reopening accounts.

Part I
Old songs playing in my ears.
Sparks sparking old souls, and old flames.
Did all the time, like sand, slip through and fill glass bottom.
Antiquated emotion, mixed with new. A timelapsed fashion.
Time locked time machines.
Taking your hand, your words.
"Oh nostalgia...", old friend.
With stagnant sad notes and lines.
Windows to another time, another place.
Stuck in squares, nothing spare.
And you're singing songs about ghost girls again.
Those old pearls, old friends dancing, again.

Part II
Ghost girls dancing across the page, engaged.
These flames, the lick and they curl.
Conversations. They are. They were.
Of boys and bears. Of silver medals and spares.
The boy, head down, a song in his chest.
A lovely bellow.
Naked necklines.
Heave, ho.
To and fro. Letting go but that was easy.
Expected.

Part III
Created swatches, without unconcealed latches.
Eyelashes; heavy.
Strobes of time, feel that kick, bounce off-heart.
and
a
girl.