Sledgehammer

true love...
turd love...
it will find me in the end.
the 'turd' is in the 'end'.
look there for the answer.

so here i sit at work thinking about so many things in the past that can never be physically retrieved, only in memories can i look back at them haunting me. they haunt me because i long for those times. i long for the smell in the airs. the sounds, the lights. the wind in my face as i ride shot-gun.

it's a build-up that i feel throughout the length of my body, it just wants to move. it wants to dance foolishly with flailing limbs and kicking legs, without regards to others.

i want to feel the sun warming my cheek as it comes in through the fluttering curtains, in my case a piece of cloth. i want to see through strands of my hair, at the fragmented picture that is created. feeling the warmth, lying in bed, listening to the rustling of the world outside my window.

holding your hand was enough then. feeling your warmth in my hand, knowing you feel mine too. tracing the lines in your palm with my middle finger...i'm not flipping you off.

how can i not care about the details when they're all that's left.