Jasmine smells of Lavender to me,
except the plant of color reminds me of a time that was lonelier.
I've held a bit of the scent,
but was compelled to be rid of the dried herb that lingers,
and tickles my legs in my own bed as a reminder
to dust myself off and try again.
I sniff the freshly fallen blossoms I've laid atop
my comforters, fondly.
I try to erase the fear of the spirals,
smelling flowers and escaping sleep
and remember that I've become the company I keep.
So that when I anoint my temples with white petals
I forget the loneliness lavender reminds me of.

the smell of lavender reminds of waiting
the smoke fills the air
violet lights illuminate my room
my lamp flickers
my phone does not ring
the smell of lavender reminds me of waiting
waiting for you

we bask in the moonlight
the stars dancing like fireflies
our cheeks lightly glazed
with the tender kiss of light rain
vanilla and lavender
flow through our senses
making me wonder
how I lived so lifeless
you turn to me
the grass singing melodically
'what is that beautiful scent?'
I take your hand, our fingers bent
and place them to my fragile chest
you feel the warmth of my blood
delicately flooding your touch
I say 'it's my heart'
your eyes widen, lips apart
I shift my weight, to lean over
and say this barely above a whisper
'my heart decided that a feeling so full'
'should also smell so divinely good'

lavender resonates in the air
of the bedroom, we never shared
the sheets are clean, never dirtied
for our love was never spilled there
only tears from tired eyes
tears from silent goodbye's
after love was dead and gone
and i was alone at dawn
so, desperate to put my eyes to rest
i ripped the lavender from my chest
the lavender that grew
from every whispered i love you
i doused my pillows and sheets
with every last bit hopeful for sleep
it's sleep i never got
rather just melancholic rot
and now the smell of lavender makes me sick
as it reminds me of you
and the days and nights that ended too soon

Golden hues light up the day
Violet tones at night
Roses scent fills up the air
You can find them without sight

Blue for bells not ringing
Yellow signs of spring
But still the air is scented
By the Rose, the floral King.

I used to be in control of
who I fell in love with
now I have the scent
of lavender fogging up my brain
and rose thorns
pricking my heart

When is your lavender infusion enough for serving to guests, combustible enough for the summer months, could it make us invincible to poverty? It made Jackson ******* paint the future with sticks, and made Mike Jackson fill a house with unofficially adopted toddlers and children, maybe it’ll make us go out on a limb, we could chill it with ice cubes and serve it with lemon. I’m not sure if it’s the lavender talking or the infusion you see, but it might take several hours until the simple syrup can be poured into our lemonade drink.