it withers,
it winds,
it binds to us.
clinging to smells, the sound of your dad coming home,
christmas.
a mother\'s hug when your eyes get teary.
it\'s like having dinner with a blindfold on,
you know what you\'re tasting but not quite.
it all eventually blends together into the same taste,
and you just can\'t put your finger on it.