The pillow still smells like you, y’know?
The warm, sweet perfume you wore, now embedded deep into the fabric.
The scent weaving it’s way through,
digging up old memories.

I wish things had gone differently

Oh to be self absorbed.
Floating through life thinking you’re the only one worth giving a **** about.
I’d feel sorry for you if you hadn’t suggest it yourself.
Control your illusions of grandeur and I’ll control my contemptuous ramblings.
You’re so vain.
You probably think this poem’s about you.

I feel down.
There's no way around
this feeling of being down.

No way up or sideways even.
Just descending into darkness
with darkness all around.

"Oh it's all so hopeless."

Although, I do feel up sometimes.
I get a grip and hoist
myself up from the darkness.

But I often slip, lose my grip
and begin to plummet back,
grabbing a hold before I'm consumed
once more.

I smile and laugh,
"Just a minor setback",
Ever climbing.
Up.