52 writings

xix.

everywhere I go I carry a little piece of you

that hardness and anger I loved so well

the way you tore your fingers through your hair

you used to let the wind rip it dry in the car on the way to school

the stink of incense and burnt dryer sheets clings to my skin

the scent of your cologne still turns me on when catch it in a crowd

the dinner bell, I'm your dog

I listen to all the same songs

and sink into the loss