The Park

The deep notes of your oud wood cologne put my racing heart at ease. Your lumberjack red and black flannel brings softness into this otherwise abrasive world. Unkempt black hair accentuates your peaceful expression. Your tightly wrapped arms ground me in reassurance that everything will be alright… everything will be okay. 

I lay beside you, leafing through shared memories as I blurredly attempt to focus on the pages within the book of life. Daylight begins to creep through the blinds, bringing with it intrigue for what will come of today. The deafening noise of last night has been washed away by the tranquility of this moment.  

Your earthy scent is beginning to fade, yet still has a presence of familiarity amid the aromatic ionization of the morning air. A heavy weight governs over your eyelids, convincing their sustained closure. The endless white of these bed sheets is cut only by pools of sullying crimson.  

Mornings like these felt so much warmer when your heart was still beating. 

       But, now look what you’ve done.  

Look what you’ve made for us. 

    I longed for your touch before I realized the linen-soaking poignancy of your deceit.  

Before your lips pressed against mine only brought the faint reminding of arsenic and spite.  

         When more stood between me and reality than your dispassionate, lifeless embrace. 

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