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"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures." The Picture of Dorian Gray

Monday, January 31, 2011

day one hundred ninety-seven: smells like home.

that smell
for sale
it's not stale
but not new
slightly worn
slightly torn
maybe a little
abused
that smell
it's love
actually, it's just a smell that
i love
it smells like home
it smells like
mom
and me
and you
and him
and anyone else
depending on which day of the week it is.

i'm fickle.

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