Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I'm sitting in the kitchen, plying the last of the Shetland, watching the singles twist into 2-ply so quickly that the yarn is a blur unless I stop the wheel....when I smell you. I stop. The scent is unmistakeably you: clean, refined, velvety, masculine in a restrained way. And I miss you so much...it's so strange that my mind could conjure up such a vivid scent memory out of the blue like that. It's as though you're walking through the room again, or as though you were just here minutes ago. It's like a few seconds of heaven, of the crazymaking stopping for a minute....like this nightmare is over. I don't know if it ever will be. I can only hope that eventually, things will be at least a little more sane....and to hold the thought of you in the light.

I guess that in the end, I don't care what sort of head trips they play with me. All I really care about is that you're OK.

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