Your Cloud


I know it’s in my past now,

but I can still smell

the scent of things

I liked

 

pear fruit spritz and Tresor,

clouded over me

in the darkness of nights

 

raining down whispers

and random touches of locks against

my right ear and collar bone

 

searching and cutting through

the blackness of her eyes

for a place to call home

 

her ransacked dreams by way

of hurtful love waved in a trance and

danced from her ceiling fan

 

predictably I was escorted out by the Rage

of her pains,which in return gave chase

when I left and ran

 

all behind me still stands

the mushroom cloud, smelling of misty lost love

and desperate presperation

 

still running, chased by the Rage

avoiding the predictable

of my total devistation

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