Either Way It Escapes

His is more mellow.  A broad  flow that fills you up until all you can smell or feel is his.

A swirl of lace thin smoke,

Drifting to the left,

It has to be right.

Where you outlast me in vision, I pick up the rest.

Where I lack in sight,

I make up in mind.

Insight? Haha, yeah, that’s what you need. A place to stay and some room to breathe.

Citrus is tangy. Bites at your lymph nodes and parades in your throat. 

Crisp, clean and cold.

Reminds of home.

Reminds of clean hands

And the reasons they were dirty.

“Just fake it ‘till I’m done.”