Your bed is gone
Your dresses along
With every hint of you,
No visuals, but
Memory is scent to me
It's in vibrations
Caught trapped in the walls
And ceiling, singing back to me
To hear and smell you present
Remains a privilege that I'll
Only return to dirt or air
If I wind up burned to ashes
Rather than interred and even
Then, logic could
Not prevent me
Proof could
Not convince me
That the height of the fence we climbed
Could fall to dust in the darkness
Just fall apart in dark just out of view
Deprive endlessness of you

Grandmother,

           Do not feed me with the scent of tomorrow - it has a certain pungency that I cannot stand. After all, I am still full with the taste of this bitter residue lurching in my stomach left by memory.

Dead thoughts feed this Lilly, ever drinking
As she picked them free to wear upon herself.

She smelt the aroma of a dead mans thoughts,
Intoxicating was death to her every self.

Gazing upon this jar of silent looks eyes forever
Closed, to open nevermore life is restrained.

This wasn't the only flower she was to grow,
All would have the scent of deathly thoughts.

Each will drink upon a suspended moment of
Muteness, only the flowers would speak with scent.

Come to this place of the silent reflection, entice
Oneself with the scent of a dead ones thoughts.

Out in the field near our cabin
I see little tracks in the snow
Leading to the edge of the tree line.

We follow.  Loving the smell of pine
I run my hand through the branches
Snapping a twig to capture the scent.

When we are home, sitting by the fire,
I will say, "Here is the memory of trees
And of our trek.  Smell."

And, you will take my hand in yours,
Gently raise it to your nose; then we will love
Amidst the memory of pines.

Yawn and stretch
Mid-morning nap, check
Time to scent the premises to ward off predators
Keeping watch over the pack
A century's job is never done
Scenting, check
Lost in the smell of love
Oh how they leave me piles of love
I find them by chance and roll myself in them
It's almost like they are with me
Back to work keeping watch over the world
How am I supposed to protect things
If I'm not supposed to be perched on the lookout tower
I must do, what I must do
Warning the passersby that this place is safe, protected,  check
'tis my job
Back to basking in the love
The piles of scented coverings left behind
I believe they scent them just for me
Surely they must know I need them when they are off and away
Yes, piles of love.  
Back to work
Waiting to be rewarded for a successful day of guarding the premises
Waiting for the belly rubs that signify a job well done
The sun is low as I lay perched upon the tower

Stand here or just shrug away
Leave me that heart you say you've held
Forcing me to ponder hopelessly
In the deepest depths and realms
That scent-
That smile-
That eerie grin-
Still lingers in my mind
Like piercing needles puncturing
The chambers of my mind
Stop
Go
Just wait in time
Like the ones around you will
Losing moments
Precious moments
The ones that make you ill
Deep inside of this twisted mind
I call my memory
I lock it up and keep it tight
Your secrets safe with me

                                        Alysia Marie 2015 ©

Essence, raw resins
Yellow, brown sticky substance
A scent too earthy