i can still smell you on me.

but the smell is fading. faded.

the smell, your smell reminds me of you. of days when it was less complicated. days when i didn’t want, when i didn’t need more.

days when i was content wasting time talking to you. discussing music and books. listening to the playlist you made me.

your smell.

it has washed off of me now. and i don’t think i will ever get it back.

but i crave that smell. I need it.

a time when nothing made sense, but everything made sense.

now it is a puzzle. unsolvable.

i wish that i could take it back. but i know, if given the choice i would still love you.

and nothing would change.

and once again my choices betray me.

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yellow grass

I suppose cliches happen for a reason.

Like they are relateable.  Like they happen time and time again.

So here I am being predictable and cliche, writing about grass being green. Usually when it is on the other side.

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Once it is gone, I miss it. For years, it was watching over my shoulder…pushing me to pull me closer. And I resented it. I was fearful of it. I repeatedly held back, pushing it away. And now, all I want in the world is to hold it so tight and never let it go.

And now that it is gone I miss it. I only appreciate it now that it is gone. What a damn cliche.

“The reason that clichés become clichés is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of communication.”

Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

the exception

you are two people…

the man i know you to be and the man whose actions tell me differently

the man i hope you to be and the man who i know you are

the man that i thought i knew and the man that i don’t know at all

my best friend and the one who causes all of my pain

the one i could tell anything to and the one who holds it against me

the man that i love and the man that i hate

the man that i love and the man that i love