unsent draft messages

The beauty I find in disarray

Turns dismay into a hobby, a pastime

Memories of a time past

Felt everlasting once, but couldn’t,

Alas they must remain in disarray,

In shards,

In pieces,

Broken strings not to be threaded

For there was no single story,

No one narrative,

No words to be lost, recalled, revised or omitted

Only the essence,

The sentiment,

The tender sting of nostalgia 

Raw emotion in perpetuity

With I, in servitude to it’s beautiful ambiguity