| You smell like flakes of tobacco and rock 'n' roll, like drying rain on concrete at dusk. I skim past your skin and catch it; compartments of scent and I have the key to each. Here, in this one, a soft glimpse of toffee and vague hope; and here, another - the heady potency of red wine and desire. I drink down each one, even as we sleep entangled. Lit matches and tumbling dreams. I know your smell and when we are apart it brushes my cheek as I go to buy milk, strokes my hand when I cannot sleep. I wear it like silk. Anna Russell |
Enough
3 months ago
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