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Mason Jun 2015
When I remember
pressing my face against your neck
and tucking it under your hair
and kissing your ear,
it's the smell that overwhelms me.

In memory, it's more like a color.
A brand new color.
A more beautiful color.
In delicate hues it comes and goes as I breathe.
I breathe deeply to try to capture it.

But I can't steal the rawest of your beauty.
Although I may, for a moment, remember the joy it gave me.
Sarah
Kyra Wilder Jun 2015
Its raining. I love the rain, I love the sound rain makes against my window and how it makes me forget about my problems in life. I love the feeling of rain against my rough skin, making it seem softer. I love the smell just before its about to rain, and right after it rains. I would make a candle out of that scent and burn my sadness away. You see, some people feel the rain, some get wet, and others, well others are the rain.
Poetic T May 2015
The little vacuum wished it would
Grow up and be like its cousin, the
Bag less wonder, he could clean
Places where others couldn,t dream
Of, he was the three wheeled wonder,
The little vacuum wanted to be like
So much and more.

He was taken out of his box twice a
Week, his mother was the toaster his
Dad was a fridge, she made him toasty,
But he gave her the shivers, but in a
Good way my family are like others for sure.

Buttons pressed on and off, his hose was
His nose all kinds of things he sniffed up
From crumbs to socks. But the smell always
Blocked his nose and he did sneeze, out
Come the sock, dust and all, where once
Their was clean carpet there was dust and
Mouldy apple core.

Was it the sock or the apple moldy with
Colour of boggy green and rottern black,
How long had that been inside rotting at
His core. He felt not so good, every time
Turned on he would blow a cloud of dust,
Not ******* it back.

He was down, his hose was not at its best,
He felt like he,d ****** up a cactus, and
The taste was like a soggy moggy or the
Stinkest cheese mixed with a wet sock could
You imagine that.

His mother said you need to keep toasty,
His dad gave him the cold shoulder and
Said son man up, that was the end of that.


So they took him out of the box, thoughts
Went through the little vacuums switch,
Would he end up like uncle larry. He was
A proud drill but one day he could keep it
In, it feel out they said a ***** was lose, that
Was the end of that. Last I heard he was
Recycled, his parts now used everywhere
Scary is that.

So I was lifted out, my nose off it came they
Were washing it under the tap,They opened
Me up to look inside, I felt air in my insides
A weird feeling is that, a bag they took out
Looking worse for wear, had that been inside
Me since they had first unboxed me, gross they
Said was it me I thought, but it was the bag in fact.

They were gentle as they washed my insides,
It tickled me I let out a giggle, they looked at
Each other was that you, not me could have
Been the cat.

Refreshed I felt as they put my hose on
I could breath once more and fresh scents,
Not the smell of a wet moogy, how much
Better was that. A new bag they put in me,
Then closed the cap, I waited for the switch,
Nothing happened, was I to be like uncle
Larry, but they hadnt plugged me in how
Silly is that.

So a whoosh and a sound and I sounded great,
I felt like I was new out the box, so proud was
I, that I cleaned the whole house in record time
In fact. So this is my tail of the little vacuum,
Who was under the weather, but if he,d only
Washed regularly but he cant be blamed for that.

He was a happy and knew one day he would
Grow up to be like his bagless cousin and
Make his dad chill out be proud of him, his
Mother she was already proud of what he did
Around the house.
Eleanor Rigby May 2015
You smelled of life
And hope and a future ahead.
I smelled of ennui instead.

You took me to your bed
And ****** with my head.


F.Z.**N
Perri May 2015
I will randomly get whiffs of scents
that remind me of moments spent with you.

The smell of the lake in the city at your dads that first summer.
That scent that stuck to our clothing from burning cedar in the barn we called home.
A whiff of cologne that you would wear only because I loved it so.

I hope I never have to smell those again.
Painful nostalgia.
Abigail Kruke May 2015
-
I’ve always thought you were like the earth after rain,
dripping, slipping off beaten leaves
strong and steady,  
with light purples gracing,
all around us wrapped up in each other.
You are soft greys filling each moment,
hiding under cedar stairs to hear the thunder voices scream
fighting metal to find the comfort in negative spaces.
You are lightly dancing to beat up records filled with grease
filling me with old spice, and ****** hair gel.
You are clear fall days, falling
keeping us safe from our demons,
who bite and claw, filling the air with their blood.  
You are a burning laptop hiding under the blankets of a movie fort,
the comfort of laughter in dark.  
You are dusty old barns
with sunbeams breaking through in midday,
old worn playgrounds
where small children play.  
You are the empty church,
when others have left
stiff wooden benches
and soft candle rays
bathed in incense and leftover wine.
You are the spring time
changing each day
you are the winter
remaining the same.
You are the flowers sitting outside
striving for sunlight
through the darkest of times
You are the warmth of tea
after the day's hours.  
You are the thoughts in my mind,
the first words spoken in a long time.
you are the only thing keeping me going.
Nikita May 2015
Good morning beautiful.
Can you hear the birds singing?
They  are  singing  for  you
Can see the sun shining?
Its  shining  for  you
Can you smell those flowers?
You are the reason they smell so nice
Can you feel my love?
Thats  only  for  you
Can you taste that spider?
You  ate  that  in  your  sleep.

XD
Hahah
Mike Essig May 2015
I cannot not how you smell
so I project my own desire
onto your unknown skin.

Patchouli. A scent that
makes him instantly goofy
and transports me at once
to the decade before
you even drew breath.

Even now that scent
on a crowded street
turns my head in wonder.

Scent, taste and touch:  
our first mammalian memories.

Do not be troubled lover,
I will love and linger
on any olfactory lingerie
you care to wear or none.

My second favorite is just
sunshine on bare skin.

But any whiff of you will
become part of my heart
and I will inhale you
deep into my soul.

~mce
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