The scent of you never really left It stays on my pillows like the gambler in the middle Of a bet that robs the mind of logic Forming my thoughts, my thoughts of you Hung by a thread of hopes, dreams–willing idiocy– Mimicking the faux rings of promises forged From glee; borne by Joy as fleeting as a dream Tell me, how long will this last before it’ll vanish? Too soon, too quick, like the songs after you sleep Just when you’re convinced a truth has been sung The scent has gone leaving you with none   In haste you … Continue reading Tiptoes