erstwhile

i miss those good days

that now only lasts in my mind

kept far from touch

in mesmerizing bad days

where melancholy comes to smother

trying not to drown deeper 

old golden days

I can not bring back

because following those tracks

would be the death of me

I know the bottom

like my hand palm 

so leave it to the memory

enough with this misery

erstwhile it was meant to be

now both tries to find exile inside 

(in its own broken ways)

(I miss those good days)

(but I can not ignore it led me astray)

(it hides throes over those layers)