It smelled like you.
Like wilderness, like us.
The window was white,
from all the broken breaths we took
on the fifth day.
Then all of a sudden,
it smelled like butter,
frying in a pan.
Smell of someone's 2 AM dinner.
It smelled like the life
we were supposed to get back to.
And then like grass,
wet, clean, recently cut grass
bursting with life of a summer
that existed only with you.
i swear,
like a suitcase or a bag,
you took it with you:
a burst of daisies sitting in your pocket,
waiting for someone to look deep enough
to find them.
Daisies, and rabbits, and butterflies.
And in between condensation
against a window pane,
and your lips,
you became my everything.
What are the odds…
butter,
butterflies…
We're just holding onto
a piece of melting butter,
fusing under our own sun.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
It smelled like you.
Like wilderness, like us.
The window was white,
from all the broken breaths we took
on the fifth day.
Then all of a sudden,
it smelled like butter,
frying in a pan.
Smell of someone's 2 AM dinner.
It smelled like the life
we were supposed to get back to.
And then like grass,
wet, clean, recently cut grass
bursting with life of a summer
that existed only with you.
i swear,
like a suitcase or a bag,
you took it with you:
a burst of daisies sitting in your pocket,
waiting for someone to look deep enough
to find them.
Daisies, and rabbits, and butterflies.
And in between condensation
against a window pane,
and your lips,
you became my everything.
What are the odds…
butter,
butterflies…
We're just holding onto
a piece of melting butter,
fusing under our own sun.
