"brissiling" poems
Everywhere I could be
your scent persists.
Vibrant.
Brissiling.
Blooming out
to the edge of sight.
This bed of flowers that follows.
What fragrant colors
fill my day: Platinum, pale gold, indigo
as you linger on me,
rested in rich black
soil. So familiar
it seems a mirage.
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC