Oh what can be said about the past 18 months is nothing more than the muttering of an unintelligible lie about how great things went.

As I saw you last night,
with your sleeves pulled up to your knuckles as they always were,
which when placed next to your face seemed like some half-minded effort to conceal the emotions which your ever-changing eyes always betrayed, the swirl of emotions in my head raged ever violent.

You have the same attractive qualities as a car crash, and you slowed me down on my journey in just the same way.