It's always the little things,
isn't it?

The ones that sneak in,
leave tiny x-marks-the-spot tattoos —
this is where
he made me laugh,
cry,
love him.

Afterwards, a simple shape
in just the right cloud
can make songs fly into your head,
and fingers tremble
across worn-smooth steering wheels
on horizon-bound roads.

It's the little things, love,
and I'm playing your song.

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