What they do not tell you is that love is not different.
It is like any other emotion that at any moment like
white smoke passes into nothing right before your
eyes. But it's a feeling, unlike the others, that is quickly
missed. Months spent scouring love's residue off places
where it's hardest - the elbows and behind the knees -
are easy forgotten. The anger that comes sporadic like
a metallic rain shower pelleting its heaviness where
there is none. Moments where quiet makes you mad.
If you lay in bed alone, love memories crawl up beside
you - fingering your better judgement and fondling your
will to remember pain - with songs that sound a lot like
the pleads and promises of former lovers.
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