I wish the mirror would quit staring me down
with unforgiving looks and
reflections of the past that
plague
me with nostalgia
scented desires for some kind of element
some piece of what I left so deep
in my closet, my back stairwell leading to my
basement hope, chained but optimistic
with only whispers to feed
me
bit by bit
drip, drip, drip
here is some peace returned to
you, here
is where it all went some kind of side
ways, but
you found your way and yet
it always starts with
a slight smell, a distant song
the wind tickling my
soul, well hello there, me
how have you been?
