What do you call this? A relapse? Just a lapse? Some kind of dry drunk in which I walk around titilating myself with memories getting so far gone as to be able to taste you and re-experience some of what it did to my chemical constitution back then?
You're still in love with her, someone told me. Is that why everything is muted? Is that the reason for this buffer between myself and what I am trying to experience? Is this why there is so little color or flavor or feeling - this damper, dampening, withering?
It's better to move. Take me back to airports and hotels and rental cars.
You're still in love with her, someone told me. Is that why everything is muted? Is that the reason for this buffer between myself and what I am trying to experience? Is this why there is so little color or flavor or feeling - this damper, dampening, withering?
It's better to move. Take me back to airports and hotels and rental cars.
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