Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

Is It You After All?

Memories are fickle little things
I watch your gait as you move through a crowd
Is it you after all?
Your laugh and your gaze
Ignite flames but the lighter clicks
And never catches hold
Of my stray dreams and gut feelings
Whenever I smell sweet smoke
Or the slightest whiff of your voice in monotone over my stereo.
Perhaps we need it this way
Perhaps time has bound our brains.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Strain

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Letters from inside my head

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