agnosco veteris vestigia flammae (Aen. 4.23)
‘I know the scars of the old flames’
My eyes find themselves flicking to the corner you hide in,
In my mind, behind the memory of a day in June,
Nestled between the taste of marmite and the sound of that tune,
You sung as we strolled our way back,
In the black of the night,
Half drunk, half dead,
And yet entirely alright.
And I might find myself working with a smile on my face,
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae,
That old flame of love Dido cries of have I
Found burned into my breath,
As I let out a sigh,
Part giddy, part nervous,
And riding that high.
That high from the hi that you uttered so freely,
And the glow from the hello that I mumbled right back,
And the flush in my cheeks as I lose any tact
That I once used to have,
So I move to one side:
A little shy, a little stunned,
And just very tongue-tied.
So I’ll see you around and I guess you won’t know it,
The way that my thoughts spin whenever you come near,
And the feeling will fade as time has habit,
And I’ll drop those light hopes,
And I’ll begin to feel fine,
Not sad, not happy,
Let my emotions flatline.
It can go the other way too (anxiety has a habit of doing that)
My eyes find themselves flicking to the corner you hide in,
In my mind, behind the memory of a day in June,
Nestled between the taste of marmite and the sound of that tune,
Which you twist into a thing sour,
In the black of the night,
Half drunk, half dead,
And not even a little alright.
And I might find myself working as my memories cloud,
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae,
I feel choked by the flames as they crawl their way past,
And they fill up my throat,
And I heave out a sigh,
Part exhausted, part lost,
And trying not to cry.
Cry for the relief and the feeling of being free,
And the disentangling of who I am from who I feel like I should be,
And the flush in my cheeks as I lose any tact
That I once used to have,
So I push you aside:
A little shy, a little stunned,
And just very tongue-tied.
So I’ll see my friends around and I guess they won’t know it,
The way that my thoughts spin whenever you come near,
And the feeling will fade as time has habit,
And I’ll pick myself up,
And I’ll begin to feel fine,
Not sad, not happy,
Let my emotions flatline.
‘I know the scars of the old flames’
My eyes find themselves flicking to the corner you hide in,
In my mind, behind the memory of a day in June,
Nestled between the taste of marmite and the sound of that tune,
You sung as we strolled our way back,
In the black of the night,
Half drunk, half dead,
And yet entirely alright.
And I might find myself working with a smile on my face,
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae,
That old flame of love Dido cries of have I
Found burned into my breath,
As I let out a sigh,
Part giddy, part nervous,
And riding that high.
That high from the hi that you uttered so freely,
And the glow from the hello that I mumbled right back,
And the flush in my cheeks as I lose any tact
That I once used to have,
So I move to one side:
A little shy, a little stunned,
And just very tongue-tied.
So I’ll see you around and I guess you won’t know it,
The way that my thoughts spin whenever you come near,
And the feeling will fade as time has habit,
And I’ll drop those light hopes,
And I’ll begin to feel fine,
Not sad, not happy,
Let my emotions flatline.
It can go the other way too (anxiety has a habit of doing that)
My eyes find themselves flicking to the corner you hide in,
In my mind, behind the memory of a day in June,
Nestled between the taste of marmite and the sound of that tune,
Which you twist into a thing sour,
In the black of the night,
Half drunk, half dead,
And not even a little alright.
And I might find myself working as my memories cloud,
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae,
I feel choked by the flames as they crawl their way past,
And they fill up my throat,
And I heave out a sigh,
Part exhausted, part lost,
And trying not to cry.
Cry for the relief and the feeling of being free,
And the disentangling of who I am from who I feel like I should be,
And the flush in my cheeks as I lose any tact
That I once used to have,
So I push you aside:
A little shy, a little stunned,
And just very tongue-tied.
So I’ll see my friends around and I guess they won’t know it,
The way that my thoughts spin whenever you come near,
And the feeling will fade as time has habit,
And I’ll pick myself up,
And I’ll begin to feel fine,
Not sad, not happy,
Let my emotions flatline.
