5 years hence

like looking up suddenly and seeing phantoms of distant past
like running into an alley and subconsciously smiling at a familiar blue door
conscious thought slamming in its wake, reminding, surprising
this sepia page greets me in quite the same way
a fair bit of the decade has passed meanwhile
and one would think words should come more easily
more ideas, more memories to add colour
but a creeping realisation is telling me this needs some else
it needs angst, some unsettledness, a touch of fickleness
a dash of insecurity too perhaps
for i can't find raw all at once
mind you, it wasn't pretty, maudlin too often enough
but raw it was
else one is just industrialising words