Memory Lane: After Hours
Visiting hours are closed, because this road isn't the same at night. What hides in where there is absence of light, consumes people, some never return, and are never seen again. Some may make it out, but are never the same. It's interesting, maybe even ironic, this road; Memory Lane, I think everyone should take a trip at least once at some time in their life. However, I don't think anyone should go alone. For some this road is blocked completely, without them even knowing. For others, the choice to stay as far from it, is a very conscious choice. Just like for all else, there's a time and place. A trip down Memory Lane is quite a trip indeed, but important for the health of all other roads, highways, bridges, trips and traffic elsewhere; for how we navigate life.
this road, memory lane–
visiting hours are closed
i can't stay too long
this road isn't as safe in the night
a hot wind blows a burning song, lyrics i cannot fight
wrongs i have, and wrongs i cannot right
i wouldn't say, this place is a paradise
i would say– an art gallery, of every mask i've destroyed
decisions made from a flip of a coin and a pair of dice
first and last thoughts, and all on which i didn't think twice
choices, words of both the foolish, and the wise–
and voices, unpaired to a pair of eyes
faces i painted, to play a part,
and stains that never washed away
there are gaps in the art
voids fill the space of what i've forgotten
noises from the faceless, a blur so rotten
it's not all bad
but these walls have gotten taller
the list is longer, numbers i can't call back
it's paper, not people, that talk back
there's a page in my journal that's all black
on it is a history, of misery written in beautiful detail
all on which i hope not to fall back
memories bittersweet, re-tell the stories–
valleys i had to walk through
storms i had to talk to
clouds i chose to fall through
hills i've died on, without any flowers–
and mountains i never made it over
black moods, dark rooms, empty tombs– after hours
white lies and the bright light required for shadows to exist
but it's not all bad, right?
the sermons of self hatred have been silenced
i stood in the choir i was preaching to,
because it was my soul that needed reaching to
i left the world where everyone was a stranger
for a while it was acceptance and understanding that were things strange to me
it was the change in surroundings, that gave change to me
it used to be so hard to relax
rearranged thoughts, not to relapse
in all hope not to fall back
lost contacts, numbers i can't call back
to keep in contact with the new me
further down this road, i see–
lanes closed, bridges that used to be
that give me,
an ominous sense, of Déjà Vu
this road, i've gone so far, but there's far too much to continue
i can't stay too long, if i take one wrong turn
it'll be me, not the bridges, that burn
memory lane, it's not the same, after hours
About the Creator
Josh Morgan
I began writing as a means of expressing creativity, relieving stress, and venting emotions. I mention my daily battle with mental health a lot, I hope it is relatable and inspiring to readers, as writing is something I'm passionate about.
Comments (7)
I can relate. Echos from memories from the past leave scars and marks that never fade, especially when we feel bad about change. This is a great top story!
congrats on top story!
Your poem took me on a journey through the corridors of memory, illuminating the quiet moments that often go unnoticed during the bustling hours of the day. The imagery you painted, from the flickering streetlights to the whispered secrets of the night, created a vivid and atmospheric landscape that resonated deeply with me. What struck me most about your poem was the way you captured the essence of nostalgia and longing, weaving a tapestry of emotions that tugged at the heartstrings. Through your words, I could feel the bittersweet ache of reminiscence and the yearning for days gone by. Additionally, your mastery of language and rhythm is evident throughout the poem. The cadence of your verses and the rich imagery you employ create a captivating reading experience that lingers in the mind long after the last stanza. Thank you for sharing your talent and insight with the world through your writing. "Memory Lane After Hours" is a testament to your ability to evoke emotion and spark introspection through your poetry. I look forward to reading more of your work and embarking on further journeys through the landscapes of memory with you. Warm regards, Dr. Jay
Memory lane has all sorts of take-aways. Good food for thought and congratulations on the top story.
Congrats on Top Story! :)
This is really beautiful, I particularly liked how you wove the title 'after hours' into the poem. There's something so vivid about you imagery!
Wow. Countdown to this being top story, Josh. This is truly excellent. 👌 🌟