These were given to me in doses, in carefully rationed tornadoes of thoughts, tastes, & sounds. Staying with me, dripping into my skin, like a controlled substance, dangled over me, I reach for more.
His smell at night, as He changes from who I see, & what he wants me to be. Does He care? That I rest here, never knowing what, & who He'll be tonight. Does He know my smell, my scent, as I descend from this place, to where I really want to be.
The breezes in my mind, they create a vortex, a whirlwind, measured on the scale of grief & pain, joys & victories. Where the newest dose of me, is slowly transfused into my veins, the life that was Him, is now mine.
(Trying a "new" format. Traditional, story telling paragraphs, rather than the poetry style shaping on the page, I usually use here.)
