I can’t figure out what it was.

Was it the impromptu shopping trip we had last evening?

Was it the little memento from Rome?

Was it the medication?

I read the album made, of grins and smiles and love and innocence, it was written.

And of all things missed, and unfulfilled promises.

Was it, this, was it that, was it just the unguarded passion we sought?

But when defences are shed, shields are stripped, when things are let go, even ourselves, it would become a powerful concoction that brings on the least expected, mindblowing connection that haunts, that lingers, that messes your senses so much that all of the residues left are of…….

… of….

… of….

… of….