every day.
equal parts waiting,
equal parts killing it all.
i carry a faint scent in my pocket, once in while moving it to the back to pretend it's behind me.
sometimes, it gets taken out,
mixed with water.
sometimes, it gets thrown off a cliff or smashed into the dirt or set on fire.
but it comes back,
rematerialized
and rude;
gentle but demanding to know the
other names,
the ones I want to be written because i want to love them.
and i stay
disassembling the letters of a special one because
it
takes
up
space.
spaced in the space i don't have because the scent is getting fainter
and yes, i know.
others have "U's" too.
