I came across your scent today....

I unintentionally put it on myself.

It's still my favorite smell.

To smell like you.

From now on. I will use this scent until It doesn't remind me of you.

I'm a fool to be typing this out. I know you're doing good without me. I know you're taking all the anger out at the gym. I think I saw you drive past me last night. Or so I wished.

I hope you're well. I hope your dreams seem closer now. I hope you're at peace, Knowing that you don't have one crazy girl to be forced to text or call every day. At peace with your phone switched off, focusing on your work how you said things would be if I hadn't walked into your life.

I've typed this out, Knowing I can't hit the send button. Knowing I'm going to delete this anyways.

I'll always love you. I stopped hoping to stop loving you. I love you still. And always will.

for Geraldene

The **** is fine, relaxes the brain and softens the body
And I keep the fire burning for a now deceased lover

This was long ago, and now
In the present,
I live with my mother who doesn’t understand my cannabis habit -
Forgive her

It means I have to play the game of avoidance
Which is tedious
But I don’t forget Mom is elderly now and freedom
is a thing of the next generation

Nor do I forget to love my mother with all my heart
For she, with all her faults,
with all her faults
Has a heart of gold, (excuse the cliché poets)

And nor do I demand anything
For my own heart is full of years
And the “inner” child now
(having adulted) has the freedom to speak
And, and, one day flows into the next like the colours of a rainbow

And whose not to like (parents aside)
Getting ******? It’s healthy when you compare it to chemicals.

But to turn back the clock (and the poem),
I keep a fire burning for a now lost love...
We were happy together in the “forest cabin” of our affair.
Bless you, bless you beyond the grave!

When the work
is done,
I retire to the garage
to smoke my cannabis,
watch a sitcom rerun
and unwind
as I always do.

I walk to
the front of the house
to check
my daughter's car
to see
if it is locked,
as I always do.

I walk around
the black
2012 Honda Civic
and check the doors
and the windows
as I always do.

Noting this ritual,
as I have done over
100 quarantine days
in a row, I numbly think:

"There is
absolutely nothing special
about this day."

At that moment,
I became conscious
of the purple in the dusk,
the melody in the breeze,
the hopeful laughter of
the children playing
up the street,
the scent of her hair
lingering from an
earlier embrace
and the warmth knowing
all was safe,
calm and bright
for the moment,

and the truth
whispered in my ear:

"Every single thing
about this day
is special."

Why didn't they teach us how to get rid of that lump in the back of our throat at school.

Drugs and more

no doubt they've killed my soul.

Knifes and wounds, guns and more

No doubt they've killed my soul.

Arms and veins, blades and more,

No doubt they've killed my soul.

Powder and needles, pills and more,

No doubt they've killed my soul.

No more fear can't live no more,

Im the one who killed my soul.

Euphoric in a second and dead in next

Save us before we rest.

Today, I saw the sunrise.

Yes, I was up all night.

But it wasn't as sweet as it used to be.

I was up all night, suffering from insomnia, in tear puddles caused by your memories.

As the sun kept rising I hugged the teddy you gave me, for my eighteenth birthday, a little tighter, wishing it was you.