black smoke

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More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
To a friend of mine, I thought I could open his eyes to the reality of smoking before it is too late.

Submitted: October 29, 2007

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Submitted: October 29, 2007

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All your cloths smelled like it
a tangible evidence of smoke and cologne
for you I’ll quit
but you never did.
I tried to capture your scent
so it could stay with me forever.

In store room; all your smells
were as moth balls.
Is it possible to live in the past forever?
Oh, I wish I did.

Then memories would have not crept
up on me
and tried to eat away your
existence, like cancer.

 

 


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