On Repeat.

My mind rumbles, rambles, tumbles over what must be a million things.
The more wind it kicks up, the more it seems that tangled weed just rolls on through.
Rolls on through.
Rolls on over the same old song.
Its just like me to get new tunes and listen to a just few tracks on repeat.

Repeat.

I forgot to turn off the extra rinse on my cycle.
I guess this load will take a little bit longer.
I should take a load off while I wait.
Why carry such a heavy load.
I guess sometimes weight pressing down is just what you need.
Sinking into next to me, shoulders dropping just long enough to form deep divots, and make it so that when I reach over and he's not there, it feels like a warm set of clean sheets out of the dryer.
These sheets are cold when I wake.
I remember breakfast in bed, and smile of the days when that was frequent.
From outside the door an alarm sounds letting me know the cycle is done.
This load I'll remember to turn off the extra rinse.

No need to repeat.