words for bianca
I’ve felt too drained lately to write words that read like love letters
but there is a cool breeze touching the nape of my neck
kissing it like a boy with peppermint lips
who smells like earth and soap
sweat in the night and too many cups of coffee
sunday night with eyes closed smells like
incense, paper and a two week old bouquet of flowers
from a boy who needs to sort his shit out
who plys you with turkish delight
and when you look into his eyes you recall sun-dried towels
the warm scratchy smell as you rub your face on them
as you take them off the line while the ginger kitten rolls on your feet
and you love being told how nice you smell
you crave it daily, the idea that people will remember you
have feelings about you over a marshmallow, a bright day, a flower
because you walked past or hugged them too long