Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Arms Filled with Dasies

I know that it's been years since the last time I came to visit you. It's just that as usual, as Life always does, Life got in the way of living. And really, I don't think you can really blame a girl for wasting her time living and breathing in a place for people who died long before her time. I can't take the roses and dew making me high as I cry about all the moments we never had together. And I sure as hell can't stand the rosemary they planted beside your grave. The smell of pain lingers in my hair for days after spending just an hour in your presence. And yes, this place was my favorite for so long and now all I remember is the feeling of the wind beating against the leather drawn around me and the dirt slipping through my fingers or the honey suckle drifting through the easy breeze.

I don't think I will be back again, I can no longer take Death's potent cologne

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