If only you were a scratch and sniff, could I recant such a memory lingering long near your presence, while you make an impression on the senses filling my nostrils with your breath tasting your sweet intoxication on my tongue. And as I marvel at your beauty, scouring every inch of you, until I can…

Patch Work

Cynical walls build back around my heart, where you tore them down. Like patch work, each stone is put back into place, while variances of purple rise and fall from the sky.