Inhale

She smelled like you, made me think of you.

Made me think of then, how it all happened.

My mind knows when to divert, get rid of the hurt.

But you keep drifting, little dribbles of gifting.

 

I hadn't even made eye contact with her until about the 3rd sentence when my nose took in what should have been you sitting in front of me when I looked up. A mix of fabric softner, bleach and stale cigarette smoke. I immediately looked back down to imagine something different. Not her. I just breathed in and out as she talked about who knows what.

 

I opened the window, but you already know.

You blew right in, reminding me again.

You were here. Are here?

Smoke filled my nose, so this is how it goes.

 

I figure by now that it's your way of reminding me. I sometimes think maybe you are here with me in some sort of alternate world. Maybe you are invisible or my mind just isn't in touch with the universe enough to see you. But I get your messages. I hear your words. I remember. You are here somewhere smoking your cigarrette, watching me.