I have discovered nothing
Or as close as I can get
By god it suits me
Alone with my thoughts
I think of you
You may be dead
But you’re certainly around
Like that familiar scent inside my shoe
That only comforts me
And anyone else lucky enough to be marked by your musk.
A bitter sweet thing
That can’t be manifested in a factory
So pure indeed that description can’t come close.
You hang in the air
And I smile at odd times when you float in unannounced
No one knows why I look into the distance when I do.
Never be deodorised
Never lose your scent
Never waft away
Stay with me my brother.
No comments:
Post a Comment