Your smell has stained my memories, burning into my fragile skull never seeming to fade.
As a small child I thought it was pretty and striking, now I see the cheapness in your perfume, and your loathsome words.
It is a tragedy, it is selling yourself, late night visits from strange men, and plugging your ears to block out the screaming.
It is drug needles, crack pipes, living out of cars, growing up too fast, and lies and lies and lies.
When I smell it now everything comes back in flashbacks and vivid nightmares. A monstrous wave of past events, emotions and experiences still so vivid it hits me and knocks me off my trembling feet gasping air into my damaged lungs.
It is methadone clinics, cigarette burns, broken words, glossy eyes, cleaning up for cps, countless arrests and lies and lies and lies.
Despite its damage, despite its tragedy, I'd do anything to be wrapped in it again, small and unseeing of your faults.