Lavender. Her hair, her clothes, her very being
Seemed to exude the sickly potent smell.
'Flower of Death,' they dubbed it.
It certainly seemed like that sometimes;
Feeling suffocated in the lucidity of my dreams.
Soft breaths on my neighboring pillow choke me softly, quietly
Death a seductress, gently laughing as I go under.
Fresh air, my lifeboat
Falling to pieces
Decimated by the scent permeating my very being.
I call to her, my voice hoarse
Standing no chance against sweet poison
Disgusting in it's own right,
Yet so enticing
Inhale.
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Author's note:
I feel as though this one was more of a prose piece, but that's why I thought to class it as 'free verse,' as with "Mittens."
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Poetic Rubbish
PoetryA collection of poems I wrote for fun... Inconsistent uploads, of course.
