Feeding on the memories

feeding, feeding on the memories. devouring. closing my eyes and trembling at that imaginary touch. laughing all by myself as i walk down the metro. remembering those kisses, the illusion. remembering the wine at dinner and the careless laughs. they are near, and in me.
swaying
closing my eyes
smiling harder and walking blinder.
i am jelly that molds to its favorite past.
the past is not past, i walk down the same street every day with the same buses lined on the left lane and the same motorcycle revving and i always almost cross too late and have to run at the end and the school i arrive to wakes every morning the SAME.
but i have a secret that keeps me alive
the magic ability to relive what touched me, i don't let it die. i feel the truths in my insides. and so I am a cartoon of nostalgia.

(only problem is i think that i'm running in place)