Coffee laced with cyanide.
Cotton candy-
fallen to the ground and long since
dusted over.
Exhaust fumes
in the rain-washed city air.
Beauty cosmetics,
applied to the last dandelion of the indian summer.
Stoli vodka,
(or perhaps it's Skyy)
fueling a faltering newspaper flame.
Or maybe
I was dead-on the first time.
(Coffee laced with cyanide)
I've been trying to reinvent
your scent,
so that when you go,
you won't be quite so gone.
Author notes
<3
Comments
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a lovelly poem, but nothing to do with my contest. good luck in other ones. thanks
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Oh how beautiful.... I could hear your voice and character, what an amazing write!! Bravo <3
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this is just cute <3
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