The Things You’d Rather Forget.

I just keep thinking about that night, that ride back.

The god awful smell of ‘herb’ and spice and the not so subtle sour twinge of sweat. The alternating light and dark as we zoomed past streetlights. The stillness or about as much of you that you can get riding around Kuala Lumpur in an old taxi cab in the wee hours of the morning. The annoying whir of the engine groaning and our steady breaths. Your head on my shoulders. Contentedness.

But I find the details slipping from me too quickly.

I don’t think I even remember your face anymore.

And I keep listening to the songs that make you remember the things you’d rather forget.

It’s been two years.

I miss you.

“This is to a girl who got into my head,
With all the pretty things she did.”

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