It’s like those little things that stick
to your shirt when you’ve been lying
in the grass and you’re too happy
to care.
It’s the taste of lips under a shower.
It’s the wind that drags your hair
and messes up your part and makes
you laugh.
It’s the start of a good book
(the part where you realize you like it).
It’s ice cream on your nose.
It’s the scent of coffee as you wake up,
the scent that drags you out of bed
and into the kitchen in your underwear.
But,
It’s also the pile of ash collecting
under your cigarette.
It’s also the whiteness of your bare walls
that makes you fill it with cut outs from
magazines you never really liked.
It’s photographs you gave away
and wish you never did because you’ll
never see it again.
It’s that dent on your car door.
It’s the sound of metal grinding
and the smell of paper burning.
You know what I’m talking about.
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