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Jul 2017
my heart smells of new york city summer air
when as a girl
id search for peace, meaning and understanding
as id sit outside on the swing my father built for me with the hands that had always felt pain
his love transcended into a piece of oak and a strong metal chain
and i'd stare at the clouds pass over the Queens New York buildings seen
the solace was all i needed to dream
the beauty of self awareness beginning to be

my heart smells of green peppers and basil enveloping my senses as my grandma joyfully cooked for her family
the door always open for a soul needing to fill their stomachs with a hot meal, advice or community
walks upstairs to bring dinner to the wounded veteran on the first floor
the smell of milkshakes in his apartmentΒ Β 
my heart smells of cigarettes smoked by my Italian family members
the smokey haze engulfing my brown hair and brown eyes
as theyd talk of their troubles and even their delights
my heart smells like fresh white paper that i'd draw on as I would listen to the chatter that comforted me
my heart smells like strawberry candies that were kept in the glass jar on the antique wooden dresser
and the plastic that covered our couch

my heart smells of an old bottle of musk perfume that my great grandmother gifted to me as I contemplated what it meant to be a woman
and the exhaust fumes from my fathers hot rods as I would hand him tools in the garage
my heart smells like my uncle's cd's that taught me how to sing
and freshly brewed hot coffee that was always on day or night

my heart smells of rain when it all came pouring down on dad on me
in April of 2018
my heart smells of those thorned roses in my fathers hands.
painful
beautiful
strong
just like his hands
just like that swing
that I know is still there
I live for him
Written by
Nicole Castaldini  27/F
(27/F)   
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