My Rockstand still reeks of your apartment.
I can smell the nag champa & the espresso vodka. I can still smell the les paul Gibson and that nylon string Cordoba. I could still smell the lament, the rage, the torment, the sorrow, the lost little boy, the kind/gentle/piercing blue eyes. And I can even smell your aggression all over it. All I had to do was close my eyes & inhale- and I could feel myself right back in your arms.
