you have a peculiar, welcoming scent,
but your love is beautifully rough
like leather.

An unlikely pair,
a ***** scent at the nape of your neck
as I pull you into an embrace;
you smell of spearmint and oranges.

The longest day of the year,
can I handle it?
Will I survive,
decaying in reality,
for so long?

There are phases in your life,
a constant change on the daily,
and by night
the moon shifts with you
in all of its glorious phases.

You no longer
serve a purpose
because all you are
is an anchor around my ankle
dragging me down,
drowning me in pity
for your miserable soul.

the rain smashed against glass,
trying to penetrate the shield,
only to drip down
in a gloomy failure.

a teacup in my hand
is warm, steamy.
i sip the earl grey with a sigh,
looking at the continuous dewdrops
falling icily from the sky.

the dragonfly treads lightly
on pure waters,
its body a brilliant indigo
on an azure blue lake.