I think I'd like to just sit
In the gray of what's past
My eyes see it as awry and colorless
But I can still taste the memory
Feel it on my skin
I can hear laughter
Gentle whispers
And smell the scent of a desire incomparable to that of any prior or future
That isnt to say that the connections that have or will exist couldnt be better
But instead that they each have a unique aroma
Still
I'd like to sit
watching the gray
As this lingering scent
Slowly dissipates