"shampoo" poems
Is that what we wake up to every day?
Fast food and gas stations are forever stamped in the corners of my eyes as they are looking through the glass of minimum wage to the red flashing lights of a man hoping to get back to his children safely.
Is life is a pointed dagger then my blade is rusted and dull when I wonder why I even try some days.
Do I dare defend my pride and still demand something more than this? Is this a call for engines in the air or wings made of wax? Death would be more alive than waking up to another day of shampoo commercials and microwave dinners.
You are always whispering in my ear though dear and telling me that you're more than just a particle flown into my imagination from a world so oh very different than ours.
Are your eyes as bright as I imagine? Will the glare from them blind me from the tax collectors whip and will your laughter drown out the screams of onlookers who are throwing peanuts through the bars at my feet?
Will your kiss melt me and cause me to fall into wind like leaves in a storm, a tornado of color and beauty..?
I lay in bed and my eyes close tightly, my breathing slows and thoughts drip into pits men drown themselves in, the murky waters of nihilistic cynicism...
Though my hand will still not be closed around yours when the sun rises, the whisper lets me know you are still awake and searching for me too...
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
I was treated like the VIP,
A cat and a big fish,
A hook and a big Six,
whilst visiting madam bow-peeps
rotisserie of *****
Always receptive,
Wearing open silk
working 9 to 5am.
With a little overtime,
hot funk never satisfies,
She had the way-with-all
to feign, delight; even interest,
before negotiating the price,
Two shekels,
She was classy,
kind of slick,
she tickled my ears
for nothing more than kindness,
a small token in exchange for a smile.
She popped on a tune,
as she took off her dress.
The petting started
her two hands tugging with the zipper of my jeans.
A woman's touch... Ha HA,
the rich sultry kiss of *****
tight and tasty;
***** like a ripe tomato,
Sugar fried and drunk.
She opened her legs,
her hair smelled like shampoo,
She was on her belly,
knees tucked up
as I took in the fruit,
deep holes filled with **** and shabby fingers,
hollow spit and angry poison,
head spinning to the groove,
loud and high,
The bed squeaked
and a single light bulb dangled
like a loose tooth,
Ten minutes and
two ******* love songs!
Sick and spent up,
I got dressed to leave,
I said with a poke,
"I couldn't get laid,
Not even in a ***** house!"
And now I'm back in the cold again,
only dirtier.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
She makes him sit and unbuttons his shirt
Makes him lie back and wets his hair, then
Her hands massage shampoo into his scalp
She is irresistible, every moment etched on
His brain, her sensuous touch, an incredibly
Close feeling, as she washes his hair, this is
More beautiful than breath, more loving than
*** more electric than near, more perfect
Than curling up, more intimate than naked.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 7:41 PM UTC
the sounds are there, they come through walls
right around the corner
they're not visual, they're miserable and in need
they're equal opportunity exhibitionists
lovers of a family get together, taking everything in
parasitic and aware, destitute and stuck
but they're also there at the wrong time
the wrong time for the person who's alone
the wrong time for a person who's disconnected
because they want to be enjoying peace and quiet
alone
by themselves in an old house
with summer outside making its noises, crickets
trees rustling under a jeweled sky, the pinnacle of up high
breathing in the home air of cannibus, lotion and food
being disturbed is far from a thought, but unavoidable
simultaneously
because the house has a strange history
the basement floods, and the machinery kicks in
the mind ponders as the constellations wander
the nights grow and shrink, the body is dry, bone dry
the shower is turned on, soap, shampoo
lost in the mind on autopilot
until the spine stiffens
its without a doubt that I'm not alone now
a minute ago i was the master of this house
a minute ago I was naked in the hallway, smoking a cigar
now I've been usurped and I just want to barricade myself
in this house that I've live in for 15 years, now i beg for permission
to stay just one more night
I beg because how could I possibly fight
It's my conscious or the pontius pilate
I hope it's the former, because if not, blowout the pilot light
There's little hope for re-ignition or stellar recognition
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
Waiting for me after a long shower and shampoo
I dry my bronze silky skin and come to you,
Your smiling sweetly sitting on the edge of Marble countertop,
waiting while your loving gaze at me never drops.
I reach out my moist hands, we brush,
You shake nervously and seem to turn to mush.
Your wondering really how innocent are my fluid motions,
I'm smirking, while grasping a scented lotion.
You sit there amused blushing from Pink to rainbow,
Each angle gives you a new mellow, a glow, wow!
I'm missing something , something I pretend to forget,
You look impatient now with sighs of regret.
You sulk as I glimpse with a lean of my head,
through the frame of my door from my now made up bed,
I pull up my slacks, your sunny smile fades to dreary,
I put on my shirt, your turning the evil fairy.
I know you feel there's someone else,
Some disappearing genie or magical elf,
because you sense but never see,
Me happy in other pleasant company.
You want to be all over me that much is clear.
I want to take you too in my arms dear,
But today will have to be just that touch,
Your lingering smell on me makes others lust.
But silently you understand,
Your sealed mouth is as dry as sand,
I blow a kiss as I pick up my key,
I know in the dark you'll wait for me................
Because your MY perfume
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Bilang mga pilipino
Nakaugalian na nating
Bumili ng bagay bagay ng
Pa tingi-tingi,
Tulad ng
Sigarilyo,
Kendi,
Shampoo
And marami pang iba.
Bakit nga ba natin ginagawa ito?
Ito ba'y dahil
Tayo'y nag titipid,
kaya tayo'y dumudukot lang
ng pa-pirapiraso,
O baka naman,
Ayaw lang natin
Na may mga bagay na nasasayang
Pero kahit ano pang
Aspeto ito,
Nadala na natin ito
Hanggang sa paglaki.
Nasanay na tayong
Umasta ng patingi-tingi
Pati sa pakiki-salamuha
Natin sa kapwa
Tingi-tingi na din,
Tingi-tinging mga ngiti,
tingi-tinging mga halik,
Tingi-tinging mga kwento,
Pero ang pinaka masaklap
Sa lahat ng ito ay,
Tingi-tinging debosyon
Sa panginoon.
Na dinudukot lang natin
ang mga pirasong,
Tugma sa
Sa ating mga problema
Ang mga piraso,
Na nagpapasarap
Sa atin piling,
Hindi natin ito kailanman
Hinahayaang turuan tayo,
At itama sa ating mga
Pagkakamali.
Tulad ng mga bersiculo
Ng biblia
Tinabas-tabas natin ang mga
Kasuluksulukan
Na banal sa libro.
Binulsa lang
Natin ang pagmamahal ni Cristo,
Dudukutin lang
Pag kailangan.
Kapag tayoy nalulumbay,
Sabik na sabik
Sa mga bisig
Ng iba.
Si ay ating
Kinakalimutan
Sa panahon
Ng kaligayahan.
Tinatawag
Lang siya
Kapag tayo'y may
Kailangan.
Na sa oras ng kagipitan,
Sinisigaw ang kaniyang
Ngalan.
Sana matandaan natin
Na tayo'y
Binili ng buo,
Gamit ang buhay
Na hindi binigay ng
Tingi-tingi
Pero binigay ng buong buo.
Hindi lang isang
Patak ng dugo,
Pero buong pagkatao,
Ibinuhos para lang sayo.
Kaya,
Tigilan na
Nating ang patingi-tinging asal,
Tigilan nalang
Natin ang pagpapakipot
Sa taong
Nagmamayari satin.
Tayo'y hindi tingi, tayo'y buo.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Jellyfish stew,
I'm loony for you,
I dearly adore you,
Oh,truly I do,
You are creepy to see,
Revolting to chew,
You slide down inside
With. Hullabaloo.
You're soggy,you're smelly,
Ou taste like shampoo,
You bog own my belly
With oodles of goo,
Yet I would glue noodles
And punes to m shoe,
For one oozy spoonful
Of jellyfish stew
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
Hanggat maari ayaw ko pa sanang
Iligpit ang mga pinggan at ilang kubyertos
Na ginamit natin, ang damit ****
Nakasampay sa ulunan ng higaan natin,
Ang mga basyo ng lotion, shampoo, at
Pabango na naiwan mo, lahat sila itinabi
Ko, kasama ang damdamin kong binuo
Mo sa maikling panahon na naglagi ka,
Dito kung saan iniwan mo ako.
Dumating na naman ang summer, at
Heto ako, inaalala ang plinano nating
Forever. Ang alon sa dalampisagan,
Ang mga piraso ng batong inipon mo't
Sinilid sa sisidlan ng tarheta, hanggang
Ngayon binibilang-bilang ko pa, tila mga
Patak
Ng luha na hindi na titila. Ang dalawang
Pirasong damit mo, ayun, nakasabit pa,
Sa dingding na naging saksi sa mga
Sandaling hiniram natin sa tag-araw.
Dumating na naman ang summer, at
Heto, ang dalampasigan, pinagmamasdan
Ko, nagsasabing may forever...
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
first I smell myself.
the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings
then I smell herself.
sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure
then I smell our sharings.
lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh
then I smell our combinations.
the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem
it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite
Friday, March 29 2019
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
I got sick of shaving
Every day
So I started growing a beard
For a while, it was technically stubble
But now it would make William T. Riker proud
Or at least smile and nod in approval
At the effort
I bought a beard trimmer at Walgreens
And I trimmed that *****
Made it nice and even
But it itches a lot
So I have to use dandruff shampoo on it when I can
I get compliments on it
From my mom and my brother
Whose beard should belong to a Canadian lumberjack
(Not my mom, my brother)
I love this beard
But I still get the urge to shave it completely
And return to baby-face
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 3:04 AM UTC
HE GIVES THE BEST HUGS
"you like long hugs don't you"
he knows i do
so he envelopes me in his warmth
and squeezes me till i feel giddy like a little girl
and sometimes
he even rests his chin on my head
and i wonder if he is memorizing what my shampoo smells like
and it's for this exact moment that i push through my workload each day and
it's for this exact moment that i walk through the rain each night
his evening smile is tattoed in my mind so i can dream peacefully
and he never fails to follow up with a simple love you snap
HE GIVES THE BEST GOODNIGHTS
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
She's taken your body wash, and used it without permission.
She's used it twice before and
presumed it would be fine to take it again.
You never gave consent.
You even said No.
She's used it twice before so what's a third time,
or a fourth or even a fifth,
she's just hoping you won't snitch and tell someone
she stole something from you...
Your confidence or your peach shampoo?
She lied about the temperature of the bath water,
you were supposed to drown
before you felt the heat,
but you didn't and now you're
tearing your skin to shreds,
Self-destruction on the first date,
how sweet.
She wants you to wash your mouth out,
you said something you shouldn't and now she's mad,
feeling sorry for you is in the past,
the new thing is drowning you in the bath.
Your heads now under water,
feet kicking the floor.
She's doused you with her perfume,
just to see you choke against the wooden frame of the door.
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 7:15 PM UTC
Unmoved by your arrival from the west coast,
ten thousand little things are different.
It’s October and the trees are on fire:
a forge that you won't notice, 'til you're gold.
Your Kicks don’t leave footprints on these cobbled streets;
even the children have old, leathery hands.
Try to paddle-board the Eno and the bass go belly-up:
that river’s for scattering ashes and making moonshine.
All they sell at Aldi is ethnic shampoo,
so now your hair twists like the roots you’ve lacked
'til now, because all you’ll ever need is two hands:
for prayer, and work.
Life moves on like a cigarette’s drag,
while somewhere Hope’s fiddle strums;
Take off your headphones and
go put your ear to an oak.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
You will never know, I will never tell the speed
My heart raced when we finally kissed that day
That instant liberation from every other need
Felt like we were the ones for Shakespeare's next play
Your perfume and shampoo smelled like a garden
My conscious self flash backed to my last shower
You finally tamed this creature out of the barred den
The thirst is quenched, this lion king has found his lost power
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
of course i ********** every night,
otherwise i'd be wondering
about the next Laika in space
with some next soviet conspiracy
Sputnik hovering while i chance
abbreviate a change on hairstyling
thinking: jeez, this is a little bit too
afro frizzy for a brainstorm,
maybe i better opt for Jamaican dreads?
economics of shampoo usage,
suddenly a large bank account.
i do get the idea behind treating nouns
like albinos... bleach the *******
hang them to dry in Polaroids...
while commercial flights fly at a certain
height, and the rich buggers fly high enough
to jet-stream in the cirrus uncinus bracket...
and they lie to children,
they're talking about strange satellites...
i can't see satellites, not without Galileo's
excommunication apparatus,
satellites, as far as i am concerned
orbit the earth in a non-visible spectrum
of the vacuum... hence their orbiting outside
of the visible spectrum atmosphere of
the earth, i would not be able to see
a satellite for the love of Michaelangelo.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
(athena)
the sweaty, jacked-up summer is approaching quick
fired from the mouth of april
like a bullet from a handgun
(aphrodite)
we are fast, beautiful
***** like gasoline on someone’s palm
***** like fences that hold gardens of shredded tires
***** like blood dried on the sidewalk in the shape of a
tightened fist
(athena)
***** sneakers and ***** hair
(aphrodite)
with shampoo that never got washed all the way out
(athena)
***** because of how we love
(aphrodite)
sharp-beautiful-longing!
(athena)
with our hands on other girls’ knees and thighs
like birds out of their cage
or the statue of liberty punching her light
into a sky that holds as much desire
as it holds stars
(aphrodite)
nameless-bursting-burning!
(athena)
rough and sweet and fresh from hell
crawling to emancipation
just wanting to love
just wanting to live
(aphrodite)
just wanting to move her hair out of her face
with our thumbs
(athena)
asking to be allowed to want
what we are not supposed to have
(aphrodite)
quivering
(athena)
hot and sweaty like little kids under the covers
with a flashlight reading
harold and the purple crayon
(aphrodite)
but there is no flashlight this time
(athena)
and no picture book
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 12:40 AM UTC
The oil is gone, gone is the oil,
There is no oil for us to boil,
To power our cars,
To package our bars,
We need oil, oil, precious oil,
How we miss our material plastic,
We made everything out of it, it was fantastic!
Car batteries and glue,
Computers, shampoo,
All made out of precious oil,
Alas, it’s shuffled off its mortal coil,
Goodbye, goodbye to our fair oil,
Without our plastic,
Things are quite drastic,
All our cars are beyond repair,
There’s no more shampoo for our hair,
And on what do you think we do a poo,
Plastic toilet seats you cry,
it tell you, that’s not true!
You don’t even know how I’m typing this,
Computers are gone now – don’t dis!
Life really ***** without oil,
In 2011, it must have been royal,
A word of wisdom to those with oil about,
Look after it dearly, don’t let it run out!
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
You have stars in your hands
and you hold them like grenades.
The boats tattooed on your thighs
spread out like finger placements of the G major chord.
Synthetic drugs make chains
tying your first and second fingers
around the mechanically rolled paper,
canvasing your throat like too much sea water,
each breath as rough as the veins in your arms.
Close your eyes
there’s pollen in the air
spread out like imperfections on the skin of an apple.
Solar countries keep foreign coins
sewed into their cotton sails,
they put their money into the navy.
You have a comet in your circulatory system
leaving bright spots under your skin
a reminder to gather the sunshine back under your eyelashes.
Hand soap in ketchup packets
make bubble bath islands
and unhappy lips.
You’re as talkative as a poem and
as expensive as a poppy
with homemade constellations on your back,
staining your lumbar muscles with cherries.
I can’t wash off your fingerprints
with my favourite shampoo.
I’ll swim across the Georgia Strait,
dodge your dinghies and
make a home in handmade ships
where I’ll practice erasing scars from my arms
and washing the soap from my hair.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
The boy haden't bathed in over a month
His **** crack was itching and burning
His underpants were soaked in slimy, wet muck
And his toes a thick jam were churning
His armpits stank worse than a fat pigs raw ***
His breath smelled like rancid fish
His hair was so oily, matted to his head
His own mother wouldn't give him a kiss
"Enough!" he cried as a passing fly died
When he raised his arm to exclaim.
"I must bathe right away! I am long overdue!"
"I sure hope the washcloths are brave."
"To the bathroom man!" He shouted as he ran
And his underpants sloppily squished
"I will remove this filth and brush my green teeth"
"And my mother I will kiss!"
"The closet's ahead!" He said as he sped.
And he stopped there to get some stuff.
Some soap, some shampoo and a towel or two.
But he knew that it wasn't enough.
Look though he might, to his horror and fright,
Not a single washcloth could he find.
Then panic set in 'cause the stink of his skin
Was driving him out of his mind.
He looked yet again but to his chagrin
The washcloth shelf was bare.
The washcloths had run off
For they would not wash
So filthy a boy on a dare
"Oh what will I do!" "Boo-hoo, boo-hoo!"
The boy cried as flies swarmed his head.
"I'd **** myself but I already smell"
"Far worse than anything dead!"
Then one washcloth came back
Holding it's nose and a sack
Of bath salts that smelled like dill.
It said to the boy "Go pickle yourself!"
"And give me a nausea pill!"
So the boy rejoiced and filled the tub
With water, hot as he could stand.
And using the bath salts, he jumped right in
And the pickling began.
He lathered the washcloth with water and soap
And scrubbed with all of his might.
Away he washed all of the filth
'Til none was left in sight.
He washed his hair and brushed his teeth
And dried and dressed himself well.
And the washcloth exclaimed as it hung on the tub
"Holy crap! that was pure hell!"
So the boy now clean ran to be seen
By his mother he loved so much.
And she gave him a kiss and said "This is pure bliss!"
"I can kiss you and keep down my lunch!"
The moral I'll tell you and true I will be
So no one will say that I lied.
Don't wait a whole month to take a bath
Or you washcloths may run and hide.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
I used to sing in the shower
Dance like I was in the rain
Watch all of my worries
Be washed down the drain
I’d use all the hot water up
The mirror covered in steam
So the bathroom was foggy
Like on a cloud, in a dream
I’d wash my body with soap
That smelled just of a daisy
So I was clean and sweet
Then I’d shampoo like crazy
I used to sing in the shower
But that was when I had him
When he left I was drowning
And he knew I can’t swim
So now I sit in the shower
No dancing like in the rain
Because each time I cry
And I remember the pain
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
I heard in a song
that you’re only
as good as your
last mistake.
And I’ve never been
more thankful for
humans ability
to make millions.
So you’ll never
be my last,
because I’m better
than that.
Burning toast
and eating it anyway.
Buying shampoo
when I actually
needed conditioner.
Showing up late
to a meeting.
Missing the first
day of class.
Studying for an exam
two hours before it starts.
Not turning in an
assignment because
I just simply didn’t
want to do it.
Not leaving my pajamas or
bed when there’s
so much to do.
Apologizing when they
bumped into me.
Lying to people
who care, I’m okay.
Not locking my door.
Walking alone at night.
I’d rather be
defined by all
of these things
than you.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
I can feel the gentle, rhythmic breathing
And the tepid touch of your skin
Soon the sun will rise,
And you must go to class
But you will mutter an excuse
Just to stay a minute more with me
I can hear your soft snores,
And muffled moans
Soon we will succumb to summer,
And it’s malicious motives,
To bisect your beauty,
From my greedy grasp
I can smell the shampoo
That I will never smell again
For I will move,
And you will move,
A Dispossessed Connection
Though our spring may have ceased
Our wilted whispers will never wane
Though my bed may be devoid
I’ll remember where you had lain.
I’ll remember our long laughs
And your sweet smile, more stunning than the stars
I’ll remember our wishful words
And the times that were ours.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 4:20 AM UTC
I am ragged and
Dismembered
In velveteen splendour.
Assembled by a drunk,
Who couldn't remember
What loveliness
Looked like.
I'm too tall for my height.
You are pulpy and bright
Like today's magazines.
Your eyes are spotless like
Ironed jeans,
And they fold and crease
in smiles at me.
You find me funny.
I am sterile and naked
And aching with
Tension.
I'll bend into positions to
Get your attention.
I am fixed in the curb,
and you gather the nerve
to cope with my most
unnerving dimensions.
(I love you. I forget to mention.)
You've never indulged in
petty ***
You wrap my arms around
Your neck,
like I'm a scarf.
I make you laugh.
You've never been
out on the scene.
You've never found yourself
between two strangers
in a darkened room.
Bedroom theatre's not
for you.
Nor costume.
You've never smoked.
You've never drank so much
You've choked
on hot-bodied ***** and
collapsed in the road.
You had four pints of
beer
and I watched you explode.
From your skin I lick atoms of the sky and shampoo.
You are dripping with hygiene,
You are clear, you are blue.
In mirrors you stand and watch me watching you.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
#
*The Muse of Whimsy has arrived.
I really feel the need
To take a break from poignant
and my impish humor feed.
A silly prank's in order
so I'll leave some noggin bear
By filling up their shampoo bottle
with a cup of hair removal "Nair".
I'll put a rubber hot dog
in some hungry knot head's bun.
Watching his expression
should be worth a lot of fun.
Humiliation is a blast
when dignity is lost.
If someone's feelings are the price.
well then it's worth the cost.
Somebody always loses
if your heart is made of stone
Laughter is contagious
but leave well enough alone.
Compassion is the brakes you use
when things get out of hand.
Laugh, but pass the laughter on
then most people will understand.*
#
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
So close to your scent, I feel I should pay rent.
Something you will not know you smell, until a time comes when you go.
And suddenly everything smells like that.
WHAT IS THAT SMELL?
And you calculate the ingredients to the potion of that smell..
A smell you know so well..
But you can not list it's properties
You are it's only property.
A smell you can not tell the smell of.
And when we're back again the smell almost goes, it gets camp set up and lost inside my nose.
You enter the world of this smell, it's warm and it's cozy, it's familiar and almost dusty.
It smells like skin.
Which smells like nothing.
It smells like hair
Which smells like something.
It smells like breath without a particular scent.
It smells like clothes and armpits.
It smells like a sample scent of another world.
Which I am nosing around
It smells like all of your belongings and all the things that you do put into one familiar you.
It smells like sawdust, it smells like dog walking, it smells like toast, it smells like early morning, it smells of the coast, it smells of laptop, it smells of toothpaste, it smells like tents.
It smells of carpets, It smells of washing powder, It smells of your house and your power shower, It smells like Apple shampoo and all the other things that you like to do.
It smells like you.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC