The taste of mint on your lips reminds me of better days, when we walked together, hands entwined, up the hill that spelled out our destiny. Of days when your eyes would meet mine, and I could be lost in them, the same endless blue of the pool, the same endless blue of the skies. The blue depth of your eyes–
But the taste of mint recalls more. Mornings, spent in your arms, love.
Midnights spent alone, with bare memories for comfort.
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