there’s no stalgia like nostalgia

"gone are the days of what i loved," 
she cried at four years to me;  
but i felt what she meant, i think, 
for all we know is what we've seen  

in lines and circles, blurred with tears, 
like laughter spread across a pool, 
we reach for what's no longer there, 
and think how kind life is, but yet 

how cruel

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