November 10, 2011
That smell. The one I can pinpoint exactly. Laundry soap. Ocean breeze shampoo. Some fresh cologne.

That smell is engraved in my memory because I still love you.

Your laugh. A sort of wheezy snicker until something reaches its peak in hilarity. The laugh reserved for me whenever I said something silly.

That laugh is the soundtrack to all of my days because I still love you.

Those eyes. Heavy lids covering shimmery liquid hazel, framed by lashes that go on for miles.

Those eyes haunt me in my dreams because I still love you.

Just you. Your lanky, antelope-like build, your large hands, calloused from hours of yard work, clasping her small soft hand. The extra spring in your step that just suddenly appeared.

Everything you are, glancing lovingly at her, but then turning those eyes toward me, kills me because I still love you.

And I guess I always will.

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