Lost and lonely I drift

Wandering through hazy days

Looking for the chubby little fingers

That used to tug me around with laughter

The air is soft and warm
Each breath in
Is like a hug to my soul
Each breath out feels fragile
Like I’m letting you go
Is this the scent of love
Freshly bloomed and new
Scared to exhale too hard
At the risk of losing you
If this is what love smells like
I want to hold my breath forever
So I’ll breathe very gently
While I write my love letter


The sun warms the world we share
Every breath is honey-sweet
Each moment is ripe
Like fruit from a tree
Is this
The scent of love
Soft and golden in hue
Wrapping itself around me
Enlightening every moment with you


But as the seasons begin to change
I guess feelings do too
Does the smell of love fade
Like the autumn leaves do
What once felt like life
Feels like a breeze whispering doubts
The warm air that once held us close
Is cooler and distant now


The aftermath of love
Feels like I’m breathing in snow
My lungs
Now cold and dry
Feel empty and hard like stone
I miss the scent of your love
The sweet sweet bloom
Even the fading
Was something to hold on to
Was this the smell of love
Or just four seasons of lust
Was this something real
Or just a long winded gust

The stars blinked out one by one,
and for a second, I thought I had won.
You always said I needed too much,
that the world owed me nothing.

But I wanted the debt anyway—
wanted it piled high enough
to scrape the edge of the moon.
I wanted the universe to notice
how I stayed up nights,
bartering my breath for forgiveness
and my spine for love.

I thought the quiet was mine to keep.
I thought I had tamed it—
a wild joy, caged
in the ruins of what we built.

I bartered with silence,
traded my dreams for detours,
hoping to bend the night into something
I could swallow whole—
but it swallowed me first.

The dark wasn’t empty.
It was you—sharp as every breath
I tried to hold, under a sky
too proud to care if I fell beneath it.

And the stars?
They just didn’t want to watch anymore.

This morning, I see you in the cannonball tree
Come crash into me, I think
Through the rustling of falling leaves, your voice calls

You are hiding within the pale red fringe-flowers over there, I am certain
I search for any relic of your scent amongst them
My senses ache to be engulfed in your love

Two blackbirds sing to each other from across the trees
I should call, I think
Maybe if your voice could touch my ears, everything would be alright
Under the drizzle of an August day, I fall in love with you again

But I can still see you crying that day in March
My sweet boy…
Maybe you belong beneath the fallen leaves

First stage: pheromones

I can't sleep

with the smell of you
still in my nose

and your taste
still upon my lips.

Neither can I wash it away
Nor let go,

lest your essence I were to forget