Untitled from the Notebook

I can’t say I’m one for a rainy Tuesday. There”s the smell of coffee and the sound of drums in the distance. I can see shreds of the long winter resting on the ground. 

I can remember your run down little kitchen, when snow fell and the radio hummed a warm heatless sound. Electricity that pulsed in winter, and we danced and the faucet leaked and I was content. 

Days like today remind me of you, though I can’t quite remember why. Maybe it was all the hurt on both sides, yet I felt nothing but the October air blow in through my open window. 

But that was years ago, and I still can’t remember why. 

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