Buildings Made of Nostalgia

When I’m physically not busy, my thoughts are. 

Towering buildings made up of nostalgia and grief that stand tall in my mind. 

I’m struggling to find the exit to this building,

Filled with mazes of my haunting memories. 

I keep asking these people for help on guiding me to the exit,

But they’re busy repeating silly lines to me.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this anymore,”

“I’m falling out of love with you,”

“It’s better if we stop being friends.”

I insist them on telling me something different,

But they don’t obey.

They get louder, screaming their words at me,

Echoing the walls of my mind.

I contemplate jumping off this building on the balcony,

But the distance from the balcony to the cement increasingly elevates.

I’m tired of running from them.

This building has become my home.

Their faces have become so familiar,

I am no longer filled with agony when I see them.

They’re so familiar that I try to associate them with the new faces that reach me in reality.

They gave me this building as a home to live in,

So I will generously give them my mind as a cave to reside in.

Sarai R