Me me me

That warm, sinking feeling that comes right after having the world's longest, most delightful stretch that you swear lasted for more than a minute as the morning sun glows shyly behind your window.

The overwhelming nostalgia practically demanding introspection and deep-thoughts-of-self that comes with the deep, toasted warmth of a cup of joe and luxurious roll of a cigarette.

The smooth, throaty, sultry growl of my Isabella and the feel of her tires on the road accelerating in harmony with John Legend's Evolver blasting through my bass as I take a turn I thought I couldn't take, smooth like butter, rich like chocolate, black on black, growl.

Love. Early morning, drowsy love. Late night, candle-burning love. Soft, golden-brown Autumn love. Leather jacket, street vendor, knick-knacks, Christmas lights kind of love.