two separate lives

The tired Pacific sun was a comforting, warm hue of tangerine. The scent of the air tasted like all the years left behind, full of words unspoken and things unseen. I felt as if no time had passed, like perhaps my new life was a vivid dream and I’d been here all along. Sometimes nostalgia can be quite subtle, and other times it can build up until you start to choke, blinded by an oblivion of all the little pricks and pinches your head forced your heart to ignore. You realize love is when all the things that used to drive you mad are the very things that make you swell up inside. Every corner I turned there was a different story laying dim-lit in the distance, wondering if I still remembered. One day they’ll be gone.