: EVERY MOMENT IS LOVELY, YES :

i barely remember the sound of your voice

the day after you left i

saw a young girl on my walk to work

it was cold

she looked like a teenage you

i could see her breath in the air

she avoided eye contact

i held back tears as she passed

a wake of perfume

flowers, cinnamon

wet

trail behind her, trail behind her

i closed my eyes, deep breath

held the scent in my lungs, walked with my eyes still shut until i got scared




how old are you

eighteen

how do i know this isn't a fake id

who gets a fake id that says they're eighteen




no officer

no officer

yes officer

no



one call but you didn't answer

now you live in a field of ripe dandelions and golden rays of sunshine

and a penthouse pet lens smeared with vaseline

and bad mobile reception



after you left i

3 x like a billion = how much I love you:

ty bluesmith said...

bitches are a dime a dozen and you gotta dollah.

no i know.

awesome poem.

~otto~ said...

tx and i don't mean texas

CBM said...

mmm, ty's right and cinnamon's a killer.

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