Maybe one day I'll fly out the window like a stream of perfume. I'll waft over the roofs tops and mingle with smoke stacks, absorbing particles of all different kinds. My scent will change; it will leave bits and pieces scattered across the sky and in between unseen surfaces. After years of travelling through a world of smells, I will have dispersed and weakened. But, I will be in every breath you take.
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1 comment:
this is very anne carson-esque of you
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