I can't look at a 74' Ford F250 without a tear coming to my eye.
Or watch The Little Rascals without a pang of grief striking my heart.
Even the smells I thought once to be utterly grotesque;
Like chewing tobacco mingled with stale beer,
can bring a crooked grin to my face.
The scent of used motor oil and old transmission fluid,
breaks me down faster then a Nicolas Sparks novel.
knowing you're gone.
It's been years,
but the pain sits in the ground of my soul like steel.
It may oxidize,
though the rust will taint the surrounding earth forever.